Made to Be Ruled
by dhauren
Summary: AU - Darcy is queen of the 'fanboys' that flock around Avengers mansion. One day she meets Luke, a dangerous and mysterious man who is very different from the usual fan. All her instincts warn her about this man, but she cannot resist him
1. Chapter 1

Slight AU here, mostly because I don't know much about the Avengers, so I'm tweaking things the way I want them. The Avengers have rock star/A-list movie star status in this story, thus the fan worshipping that takes place outside of Avengers Headquarters. This takes place after Thor, leading up to my own version of the Avengers. For any of you who reads my Blame it on the Vodka story, be warned. This story is dark. Loki will be very dark, and Darcy is a little less admirable. Rated M for a reason! Hope you enjoy. Please review!

I don't own the characters. Sigh.

Yes – I'm posting this just after New Year's because I have no life right now. Woohoo.

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><p>Why did dying hurt so much? Almost as much as the breaking of her heart and soul. Darcy hoped it would end quickly. <p>

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><p>Before…<p>

"You probably want to change into regular clothes, if you want a shot."

Darcy couldn't help herself. She knew it was ten shades of stupid, and that some day, doing it would probably get her killed, sooner rather than later, but she couldn't help it. She was a complete sucker for the geeks. Even the older ones.

This one was different. He turned slowly, and Darcy felt a prickle of…fear? Apprehension? Flat out lust? He was lean and tall, dark and oh so dangerous. His swivel to face her was a slow, controlled movement that felt like he was realigning the world to look at her. She actually felt the shift in reality as his attention focused on her.

Oh wow. The lines of his face had practically been carved – chiseled cheek bones and a jaw line that made her knees weak. His expression was smoldering fire; green eyes that jumped out and devoured you, and a thin mouth that neither smiled nor frowned, but hovered somewhere between.

She was going to die. Right here and now. She could see it in the restrained violence of his muscles. Every inch of him was coiled, waiting to strike, and she had so foolishly called attention to herself by speaking. But what a way to go. Darcy pressed her legs together to ease the sudden wicked throb between them, and took a step back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She felt bad that the other fanboys (as she called them) would be exposed to her killing and their innocence would be forever tarnished. She felt a darkness gathering on the edge of her vision, and wished she'd had the chance to say goodbye to those that mattered.

Then…he arched an eyebrow in question, and a tiny smile stretched his thin mouth. Light resumed its normal state, and Darcy relaxed with a sigh. She was thinking crazy thoughts. Look at him! He was just an older-than-normal fanboy. Harmless. Looking for something that made sense in this crazy world.

"I'm sorry?"

Oh yeah. What a voice! What an accent. Yummy. He was European, apparently, though she couldn't quite place the accent. The voice was soft and smooth, cultured and precise, like really kick-ass yogurt. The kind that looks deceptively mild but has a killer tartness when it hits your tongue. She wondered idly if he would make her taste buds tingle when she licked him. Oh man. She pressed her legs together harder, and tried willing her blush to go away.

"Your clothes!" she blurted, shivering a little as those green eyes stared at her. "You have a better chance of getting close to them if you're wearing regular clothes, or fanclothes."

He appeared baffled by her words. "I do not understand."

Darcy took a deep breath. It was hard to be coherent with those green eyes shooting warmth right to her loins. She wanted to hop on him and give him a reason to forget he was a fanboy, but her aggressive tendencies usually scared them off.

"The Avengers," she explained, feeling her cheeks heating. "You have a better shot of getting close to them, getting to meet them, if you're wearing regular clothes, or the fanclothes. The costumes tend to scare them a little."

She couldn't figure out what his costume was supposed to be. It wasn't that of any hero or villain she knew of. Green and gold cloth, with portions of what looked like leather armor. It was sharp – he was definitely the best dressed in the fancrowd, but the costume didn't say out loud what it was supposed to be.

He titled his head. "Am I to understand you are saying that my clothing frightens them? These so-called heroes?"

Maybe she wasn't thinking crazy thoughts, because she was pretty sure she was seeing a dark smile, and an almost manic light in his eyes as he glanced over the throng of fans to Avengers Headquarters. Oh crap. They were going to find her body later, when the fan curfew kicked in and the crowd was gone. She felt that darkness gathering at the edge of her vision again.

"Why does a costume frighten them?" His voice. OMG his voice. There was amusement in his tone, but she could hear scorn and mayhem beneath it.

"The costumes are usually worn by the fans who have trouble realizing they're not a part of this world. That type usually does crazy things, like stalking and attempted kidnapping."

"Ah. So a costume denotes a troubled mind. Does that not also indicate that your heroes have troubled minds, for they wear costumes as well?"

Darcy blinked. She'd never really thought of it that way. Everyone was so quick to judge the fans for wanting to believe in something extraordinary. Especially those who wore the costumes and were almost lost inside their own minds. What did that say about the heroes? They wore the costumes too. Maybe it was because they didn't just pretend to play the part of the defenders – they actually went out and did it.

"They wear costumes because it stands for what they do. It's a symbol. Why are you wearing the costume?"

He tilted his head. "Custom," he finally answered. "So I will have a better chance of meeting the 'heroes' if I dress to blend in?"

It was feeling safe again. "Yeah. They won't notice you as quickly. They keep their eyes on the fans now, since that guy tried to kidnap the Black Widow two months ago."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm Darcy," she introduced herself. "I work nearby, so I'm around here a lot."

He studied her intently for a moment. "L..Luke." How adorable. He had a bit of a nervous stutter. "I very much appreciate your suggestion, Darcy. Do you know where I can obtain apparel to blend in? I am not familiar with this place."

Oh yeah. "There's a great store a couple of blocks from here. I could show you where it is, where to find the good clothes. My shift ended 30 minutes ago."

He smiled. "That would be wonderful, thank you."

Darcy ignored the inner warning that told her not to do this. Not this time with this guy. She couldn't help it. She had such a weakness for the fanboys, and not a month went by where she didn't pick one up and rock their world. It was a little power trip for her, since the fanboys were easily awed. Normal guys tended to overlook her, because she was such a geek herself. But the fanboys…..she was like a goddess to them.

Still….this one was different. She could feel it. When he'd first looked at her…she thought for sure that he was going to kill her. But the feeling had passed, and left her feeling slightly absurd in its wake.

"This way," she offered, turning away from Avengers Headquarters. For a second, she thought he wasn't going to follow, but then he fell into place beside her. He was easily able to keep pace with her short strides, and oh the walk. Loose and confident, without being arrogant. He might be lean, but he was packing some serious shit between his legs. She could tell just by the roll of his hips, and her mouth was almost watering. She wondered how he'd look out of the bulky costume and in something a little more form fitting. Or nothing at all. Slurpalicious.

The store was only a couple of blocks from Headquarters, and Darcy set a quick pace. Luke easily kept pace with her, arms folded behind his back in a strange pose that she couldn't remember seeing before. Who tucked their arms behind their back that way? But it completely worked for him, and she was digging it. It was all about confidence.

She liked this part too. Buying clothes to help the fanboys fit in. Their usual garments were either a costume or fangear, so the chance for her put something on them that was flattering was appealing. It gave her a little more power, and she'd take what she could get in this life. She could see the appeal it held for men who liked to dictate what their women wore.

He liked his green, she found out quickly. Most other color choices were discarded without thought, though he did linger over black. They wandered through the store, drawing knowing looks from clerks who had seen Darcy here before with other fanboys, sorting through racks of clothes.

In the end, she settled on a deep green sweater that wrapped his lean torso, and a pair of black jeans just short of sinful with how close they fit. She let him keep the boots, and wrapped him in nice coat. Out of the bulky costume, he was even more desirable, and Darcy was practically licking her lips.

The fanboys usually didn't have money to pay for new clothes, but Darcy considered it a small investment in good times for herself. She was surprised when Luke pulled out a wad of cash at the register to pay for the clothes he was wearing.

"I am not accustomed to this currency," he admitted to her. "Will this suffice?"

"That's plenty," she assured. She counted out the appropriate bills to the cashier, and then handed the rest back to Luke. He was devastating in normal clothes, with the pale skin and the longish jet-black hair that had a tendency to flop down into his eyes. The form fitting clothes only emphasized his height, and she wanted to climb him like a tree.

She artfully suggested dinner after they were done in the store. He did almost look like a starving artist type. Fanboys usually had very good appetites, and frequently forgot to eat. He seemed to be no exception to the rule, as a little light came into his eyes at the mention of food.

"I would like food, yes. I went right to the gathering when I arrived here, and did not give consideration to my own arrangements."

There was a nearby restaurant that served the same purpose as the store. The employees there were also used to seeing Darcy, and there were smug smiles when she settled into a booth with Luke. She ignored them, because she didn't care what they thought.

Luke seemed baffled by the menu, and finally looked to her for help. "I am not familiar with this food. Can you recommend anything?"

Wow. Darcy was just in heaven. She ordered for both of them and then sat staring at Luke.

"You're different from most fanboys," she told him. "You don't fit the mold."

His smile was tight and humorless. "I have been told that before. You are very kind to a stranger you know nothing about. I could be one of those troubled minds that worry your heroes."

Darcy had to press her legs together again. He knew his effect on her, and that gave him power. It made him very dangerous. "It's kind of my thing," she explained blithely, as if that made any sense. "I always want to help the fanboys meet their idols." She took a sip of her drink. "Are you one of the troubled minds?"

His stare was stripping the clothes right from her body. "Perhaps," he answered finally. "Normal minds do not wear costumes, do they?"

She had to grin. "No…guess not." Ohmigod. He was toying with her. No other fanboy she'd encountered had the sense of self to be able to do that. He was so freaking hot, and dangerous, that she was practically liquefying on the spot.

"I'm really glad I swung by the crowd today," she told him. "You're the most interesting fanboy I've ever met. You don't really fit in with the rest of them."

"I pride myself on being different," he responded. "Tell me more of the heroes. Have you met them?"

Here was where she had to be careful. Darcy wanted to tell him enough to impress, without risking her job. After all, she worked for the secret organization that ran the Avengers, but she couldn't tell that part. Still, she had enough inside knowledge to tease his fanboy need-to-know, and it always worked out well for her.

"I have," she told him cheerfully. "Kinda hard not to, what with working so close to their headquarters."

He was strangely intent. "Tell me of them. I find myself fascinated with what they do."

She stared at him, trying to pin him. Hulk fan? With the danger she was picking up from him, she could totally see it. He would appreciate the rage monster. But then again, his danger was much more subtle, not easily identified. Black Widow fan! No…that wasn't right either. The underlying arrogance – an Iron Man fan!

"Who's your poison?" she asked curiously. "Usually I'm pretty good at pegging a fanboy's top choice, but you're breaking rules left and right. Who's your favorite?"

He frowned, running a hand through his inky black hair. "I find them all fascinating, yet I find myself drawn to the god more than the others."

Huh. Darcy wouldn't have pegged him for a Thor fan. But then again, he was European, and Thor was huge over there. "Ah. A God of Thunder fan. Nice guy, Thor. A little arrogant, and a little dense, but still a nice guy."

Luke's eyes flashed, and Darcy felt a twinge of uneasiness. "Tell me more of him." He leaned forward intently.

She justified it by telling herself that he could get the same information on the internet. There were tons of fan based sites devoted to each of the Avengers. The difficulty lay in separating fact from fiction. In all honesty, she felt more comfortable divulging information about Thor than about any of the others. He was a god, after all. There was very little that a possibly troubled fanboy could do to hurt him. Thor's biggest weakness was Jane, and Darcy never talked about her friend to the fanboys. Not ever.

She was relieved when their food arrived, because Luke's focus on her words was a little intense. He blinked when the plate was settled in front of him, and sat back in a casual sprawl. Wow. Most fanboys sat with their legs tightly together, displaying insecurity about their own sexuality. Not this one. His legs were sprawled almost obscenely wide, and Darcy wanted to plop herself right in between them, right now. Plus, with his legs spread like that, his newly bought jeans outlined every inch of his package, and there was quite a bit of it to see.

Darcy was almost in physical pain now, and the flash of heat that moved through her was melting her brain. She tried shifting her position to relieve the wicked ache between her legs, but it didn't go away. She downed her drink in one gulp, and chewed the hell out of the ice that was left.

She was still staring at the significant bulge between his sprawled legs, and finally had to tear her eyes away. They traveled in a slow crawl up the lean torso, and stopped in mortification when they met his green eyes. One eyebrow arched in sly amusement, as if asking if she liked what she saw. Oh yes. Darcy finally looked to the side, staring at the wall of the booth they were in. She was way out of her league with this one, and that had never happened to her before. Fanboys weren't like this. He was something else.

It completely didn't help that he practically made love to his food. The tongue, the lips, the teeth, the sounds….ohmigod. It looked like he hadn't eaten in days with the way he attacked the grilled chicken sandwich she'd ordered for him. He was….was he growling? It sounded like it.

"Do you want another sandwich?" she asked a little breathlessly when he finished inhaling the one he had.

Luke looked up from his French fries. His tongue darted out to clear ketchup and salt from his mouth, and he followed it with a wipe from his napkin. For a moment, there was vulnerability in those green eyes, and he looked more like a fanboy.

"Yes please. I have not eaten in quite some time."

Darcy flagged their server and ordered another sandwich for him, and another drink for herself. "You shouldn't neglect yourself," she told him. The intense heat was beginning to ebb. She had to get herself under control. She was supposed to be rocking his world, not the other way around.

"What do you do?" she asked after their server left.

Luke tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "I was in the family business, but relations became…tense…between myself and my older brother, so I departed. I am a bit adrift right now, although I am looking into a new career in…acquisitions."

The low chuckle he uttered was a little freaky, and Darcy smiled uneasily. "Well good for you. So this is sorta like your vacation between careers?"

"Yes. What do you do? You work close to the heroes' base of operations?"

"Yeah. I'm the go-to gal for a local firm. Data-entry, secretarial, you name it, I do it." Not exactly, but that was as much as she could say. "It's not exciting, it's completely boring, but it pays well, and you can't beat the location!"

"So you are a … servant?"

"Something like that. I make sure the everyday stuff runs smoothly." Their server returned with her refilled drink, and Darcy gratefully took a big sip. "I never really had any big plans, you know? I'm just kinda floating right now."

His expression was wistful. "That would have been a relaxed way to grow up. My brother and I were both raised to take over the family business, but only one of us could. My father selected my brother when we were children, but he never shared that decision until recently."

Darcy watched his hands clench into fists. "That's so wrong. Why would your father do that?"

"I intend to ask him someday, when I see him again." The smile that stretched across Luke's face was not nice. "It will be after I have risen in my new career. I believe I will enjoy tearing apart the family business."

Oh wow. A fanboy with major issues. Darcy felt sorry for him. Family could be hell. "I'm sorry, that sucks. No wonder you're looking for some heroes."

His face darkened. "I doubt they can help." He drew a deep breath, and then smiled as his second sandwich was delivered. Darcy watched in fascination as he dug in. At least he wasn't growling with this one. That allowed her needy libido some time to cool down. She was practically panting at his feet, and that just wasn't acceptable. Usually the fanboys were in that position at her feet. This was new to her.

He looked softer somehow, when finished eating. Like one of the many edges she could sense had dulled a little. Well, he said he hadn't eaten in awhile. That was enough to make one very cranky.

Darcy propped her chin on her hand, just staring at him. Luke stared back, with a little smile.

"Why haven't you eaten in awhile?" she asked finally.

He shrugged. "I had other things on my mind. I wanted to get here as soon as possible." One corner of his mouth quirked up. "I become a little fixated when I focus on something. Everything else tends to fade."

She could totally see that from him. He had been very scarily focused on Avengers Headquarters when she'd first spotted him. He had the capacity for violence. She'd seen that when he'd first turned to look at her. That made him dangerous and appealing and intoxicating. Her inner voice kept telling her to stay away from this one. There was too much potential for trouble. But her libido was guiding her. She really wanted this one.

"You shouldn't neglect yourself," Darcy told him again. "It's not worth it, no matter how bad your family has made you feel."

She watched the darkness come over him again. The eyes darkened, the lips thinned, and it seemed that every muscle in his body tensed. His hands clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

"My health is of little concern to me. Being successful in my new line of work and tearing down the family business…that is all that matters."

"But you won't be able to do those things if you don't take care of yourself," Darcy pointed out quietly. She felt like she was losing him to the darkness. Her presence had briefly given him something else to focus on, but now he was turning inward again.

She reached out and dared to place a hand atop one of his clenched fists. "Look Luke…I like you. You're interesting, you're a little dangerous, and you're hot. I can offer you a very pleasurable distraction from your family woes."

His gaze intensified, almost literally shooting heat to her groin. For a moment, Darcy idly wondered if here was where she would die. She wasn't sure if his intensity was fury, desire or madness. It was making her tremble in anticipation. Something needed to happen. Please. Or she was going to embarrass herself.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Luke's fist unclenched and turned over. He laced his fingers through hers, and his tongue edged out to lick his lips. That sent a bolt of pure lust straight through her, and Darcy squeezed her legs together. She was dimly aware of a small, needy sound escaping her throat, and wanted to hide. He was supposed to be groveling at her feet in complete awe that this goddess would want him. Instead, she was jelly at his fingertips.

"Darcy…" his voice had grown deeper, huskier, sending shivers up and down her spine. "You are too trusting of someone you just met."

"I know," she said in a small voice. His hand was so warm. His eyes were so green. She was lost in those eyes, willing to lie down and bare her throat if he wanted to tear it out. Or do whatever he wanted. Anything at all. She wouldn't be able to function as a normal person until he took action. And did something. Anything. Please.

"I like your proposal," he breathed. Then he blinked and the spell shattered. Darcy shook her head a little, and felt her stomach drop. He was going to say no. It was in his face, in the apologetic expression.

He squeezed her fingers. "I like your proposal a lot, Darcy, but the timing is not right. There are things that I must do first, that I cannot allow myself to become distracted from. And you would be quite a distraction." His eyes traveled leisurely down her torso until the table blocked his view. Then they slowly traveled back up to meet her eyes. Oh god. Darcy could feel the caress on her skin. She could feel it, and it left heat and longing in its wake. She was trembling WTF? This wasn't supposed to happen to her.

"Luke." Her voice was a little ragged, and she cleared her throat. "Wow….you really know how to turn a girl down but leave her panting for more. So…is that it then?" She wanted to cry. She wanted this one so bad it hurt, a deep physical ache that was destroying her mind. She'd never reacted this strongly to a man before. It was…weird.

His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "For now. But I will be around as I complete my plans, and I do wish to accept your proposal at a later time." His eyes were like a bottomless pond and Darcy was drowning. The barely-there stroke of his thumb on her skin was just ruining her, and her panties.

"Good," she whispered. Oh god. This sucked. She so had a date with her b.o.b when she got home.

A crash of breaking dishes drew Luke's attention very briefly from her, and Darcy was able to breathe. She didn't want to leave it with her being the needy one. Ultimately, he was a fanboy and they were meant to be ruled by her. So when he turned his eyes back to her, she bent her head and sucked his thumb into her mouth.

She felt and saw the violent twitch, and had to smirk around his thumb. She swirled her tongue around his digit, watching his eyes widen, then narrow and darken. A playful nip, and then she pulled her mouth free with a suctioned pop. There was her power, because now he was off balance.

"Just a preview," she told him.

Luke swallowed hard. "I look forward to a full performance later." A wry smile twisted his mouth, and he slowly withdrew his hand from hers. "You certainly know how to leave a man panting for more. Well done." He took a deep breath and slowly unfolded himself from the booth.

Oh yeah. Darcy couldn't stop her glance, and grinned when she saw that his new jeans were a little tighter than before. Score. She slid out of the booth on her side and stood. He really was quite tall, looming over her.

"So I'll see ya around then, right?" she asked.

"You shall." He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I am also glad you approached me today. You have given me something else to think about. Thank you."

They walked out of the restaurant together. On the sidewalk outside, Luke turned to her. He reached out and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. Darcy was speechless. No one kissed hands anymore! Well, except for Thor and Rogers. Unreal.

"Thank you again, Darcy. I do look forward to spending time with you later." He released her hand. "We shall see each other at the heroes' headquarters." With that, he turned and stalked away.

Darcy exhaled shakily. She couldn't wait. This one was going to be so much fun. He wasn't a shy, sexually awkward fanboy. Not at all.

With a cheerful smile, she set out for her little apartment, and an appointment for some stress relief.


	2. Chapter 2

A little backstory in this chapter. You may not like the picture of the Avengers/S.H.I.E.L.D that gets painted here, but it helps explain why Darcy is the way she is.

Reminder...dark.

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><p>Darcy pushed open the glass door of the building where she supposedly worked. She crossed to the elevators, and hit the down button. An elevator pinged and opened. She scooted in and hit the door close button before anyone else could board. Then she pulled out her S.H.I.E.L.D id badge, and swiped it in the card reader installed in the elevator just for that purpose. That sent the elevator down past the basement of the current building, to a level that could only be accessed by S.H.I.E.L.D employees. The door opened to a long dimly lit tunnel designed to look like a maintenance tunnel. But no maintenance men could access it.<p>

It was like going to work via a Freddy Kreuger movie. It gave her the creeps every time she traversed the tunnel. It was dimly lit, and there were plenty of hiding places amongst the fake pipes and machinery. And certain people were not above hiding and waiting to scare people. Halloween was hell with the overly spandexed crowd. Some of them seemed to think it was funny to lie in wait for the non-Avengers and scare the piss out of them. Still, that game had gotten a little old after she had tazed Stark. He still hadn't forgiven her, but she didn't care. He was an ass.

At least she got some exercise coming and going. The tunnel was fucking long. At least three blocks long, since the building where she supposedly worked at was three blocks away from Headquarters. But it made a good cover. S.H.I.E.L.D had a cover office in said building where everyone supposedly worked, should any relatives ever stop by unexpectedly. It worked out well.

Darcy was cranky as hell though. Her battery operated friend, while effective, wasn't what she had been looking forward to last night. She'd wanted a little fanboy worship, and wow…what a specimen she'd stumbled onto. Luke was…mind-blowingly hot. All smoldery and dangerous and aware of his own hotness. So unlike a typical fanboy. She had no doubts that he would rock her world and then some. And maybe leave her body somewhere to be found later. The darkness she could sense, the total and complete fanatical obsession with retaliation against his family, was uber scary. But impossible to resist. She wanted him. She would have him. Waiting sucked. And besides…maybe having something else to focus on (hello mind blowing sex!), would redirect his energy into something more positive.

The end of the tunnel was a single elevator that would not even open without a swipe of the S.H.I.E.L.D id badge. Once inside the elevator, there was a retinal scanner. If someone didn't scan their eye within seconds of entering the elevator, it would lock down. S.H.I.E.L.D took their security very seriously.

Darcy removed her glasses and put her eye to the scanner as soon as she was in the elevator. She'd only got locked down once, but it wouldn't happen again. The ridicule wasn't worth it.

The elevator shot up and opened into the organized chaos that was her job. Darcy stepped into it, ignoring the catcalls from some of the male agents. They had seen her heading out to the fanboys yesterday, and they knew what that meant. Darcy didn't give a shit about them. They were juvenile and a little arrogant, as if working for a secret organization made them appealing. She wouldn't take any of them to bed, even though she'd been propositioned several times.

She walked through their midst and came out the other side into her space. The Darcy Zone, as she liked to call it. She settled in at her desk, and flicked the computer on.

"Hey girl."

Darcy looked up. Jane was peeking around the cubicle wall. Oh shit. She'd heard. "Hey Jane! What's going on?"

"I heard you went out to see the fanboys yesterday." Jane came into the cubicle and perched on Darcy's desk. "When is it gonna stop, Darcy? It's not healthy. For you or them."

Fuck. It wasn't like they didn't have this conversation every month. Darcy wished she'd just get over it. "You know, Jane, it's easy for you to take the high road. You have Thor. Some of us aren't so lucky to have a godly boyfriend. Or any boyfriend. But when I'm with a fanboy, I'm like a goddess to them. I wouldn't get that from a regular guy. It's a win/win situation. They get sex, and I get to be worshipped for a little. We both know it's not going to be a long term thing." Darcy lifted a pen to her lips and chewed on it, staring up at her friend a little angrily.

Jane folded her arms across her chest. "What happens when you pick the wrong one, Darcy? When I have to come to the morgue to id your body?"

That was a little too close to the truth in this situation. "I can take care of myself, Jane. Besides, I have excellent instincts."

Jane wasn't convinced. "So…who was the lucky guy this time?"

Darcy sighed. "No joy, Jane. This one is gonna take some work, I think. He's different than the usual fanboy. Much more interesting. We had a connection, but he has some things he wants to do before he gets lost in the ample charms of Darcy Lewis."

Foster chuckled reluctantly. "That's new. I don't think any of the fanboys have turned you down before."

"Like I said, this one is different." Darcy grinned. "Completely hot, Jane. Sizzling, even. And the God of Big Packages were very generous to him. Once I got him in jeans…oh yeah."

Jane laughed. "Oh Darcy. Just….be careful. I don't know why you don't go out with one of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents."

"Cuz they suck! They wouldn't know gratitude if it came up and bitchslapped them, and they all think they're better than me. I'd rather do without than hop on one of them."

Jane slid off the desk. "So you keep saying. Fine then, don't be bitchy when you're not getting any."

Darcy stuck her nose in the air. "It's my right to be bitchy when I'm not getting any. Deal with it."

Jane shook her head and walked away.

Darcy settled in. She had stacks of paperwork to transcribe into encrypted files. Because of her previous association with Thor, she was entrusted with confidential information on the Avengers' missions, as well as normal S.H.I.E.L.D intel. This was her day. Like she had told Luke…boring. But still, she could live vicariously through the words she typed.

Since the Darcy Zone was secluded from the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D office, Darcy frequently got visits from the Avengers themselves. They weren't always welcome. She was typing away when a shadow fell over her. When she looked up, Stark was hovering behind her.

"What do you want?" she asked shortly. He really was an ass, and she didn't want to talk to him.

"You sound cranky the day after a conquest. What's up with that?"

"My personal life is personal. I don't want to talk about it with you. What do you want?" He was the worst of the lot, totally buying into the worship of the fans. He had also been one of the rudest commentators on her fanboy pursuits.

"Just trying to be social," Stark told her, but his expression said differently.

"Since I'm nothing more than a high-level data entry clerk, your words by the way, and you think that you're next to God, I doubt that being social has anything to do with why you're here. So why don't you just spit it out and then get out of my face?"

Stark's smile wasn't nice. "You know, for a high level data entry clerk, you really should be nicer, more accommodating, to the stars of the show, don't you think?"

Darcy turned away from him with a snort. "You've probably got 20 different STDs, Stark. I ain't touching that. No matter how much money you try to offer." Which he had, several times. As if she was a hooker, or something.

He snorted back. "You should be grateful for the offer, you little bitch."

"Go make it to someone who would be, Stark. There are plenty of fangirls outside. Or S.H.I.E.L.D agents in the office who would be willing. Leave me alone."

He never could, though. Jane thought it was because Darcy had turned him down. He wanted what didn't want him. And apparently, when you worked for a secret government agency, sexual harassment from one of the star members of the super hero team you dealt with didn't get addressed, because she had complained several times. She'd even gone to Nick Fury, and that had been a wasted meeting. He'd simply looked at her with his one eye, and told her to either 'fuck him, or ignore him, that's just the way he is.'

She'd thought that maybe Thor could help, because he was her friend. But the blond god had only shrugged and looked uncomfortable, telling her that Stark was his teammate, and she should be flattered by the attention. Jane hadn't been happy with that answer, but no matter how much she glared, and Darcy pleaded, Thor would not intervene.

Stark was still in her cubicle, so Darcy swiveled around to face him again. He was staring at her hard. "Do I hafta get my taser out?" she asked. "What the hell do you want, Stark?"

He finally shook his head and walked away. Darcy wasn't really relieved. He creeped her out several times during the course of the day. But it only seemed to happen when she was dallying with a fanboy. Maybe because she was choosing someone else over him. Who knew?

Darcy swung back to her computer. This particular stack of papers was somewhat interesting. The Avengers suspected that Thor's badass brother Loki was on Earth. Thor had told her and Jane, months ago when he had first returned, about what had happened to him when he returned to Asgard. How the Bifrost had been destroyed, and Thor's brother had fallen from it and been lost. There had been no doubt in Thor's mind that his brother was dead, and despite what Loki had done, Thor grieved his loss.

There had been hints, here and there, that Loki may have survived his fall. But now they suspected he was on Earth? That was bad news, from the stories she'd been told. He'd always been a troublemaker, the way Thor had described him. One didn't get the name God of Mischief and Lies, or the Silver Tongued Trickster by being benevolent. Still, something had happened that had turned him into a raging psychopath, as Thor described. He'd sent the Destroyer after his brother and friends on Earth, which wasn't exactly the actions of a sane person. If he was on Earth…bad times.

Sometimes, Darcy didn't want to know this stuff. She really didn't. Normal people lived in blissful ignorance of all the shit that went on around them. To get their attention, something had to be blowing up. They lived in a reactive world. After the fact. Darcy's world was all about grim anticipation, and desperate preventative measures. She'd be just as happy as a pig in mud if she didn't now know that it was possible that Thor's badass, insane brother was on Earth.

There were tons of papers relating to possible Loki sightings. It was suspected that he'd first touched down in Africa somewhere. But the primitive tribes in that area would only refer to a 'god' that had fallen to Earth. They would share no details, and grew hostile when S.H.I.E.L.D agents tried to do more investigation. Since the African government did not look kindly upon the detention of their tribal peoples, S.H.I.E.L.D had backed off.

Great. Something else to worry about. Right up there with how to pay her bills and rent. Working for a secret government agency wasn't the most lucrative job. Oh well. If Loki managed to destroy the world, or at least her little part of it, then she wouldn't have to worry about all of that, would she?

They weren't allowed to leave the building until the close of business, so lunch was always in the cafeteria. Darcy usually coordinated with Jane, but some days, when the Avengers weren't out on a mission, Jane ate lunch with Thor. The Avengers had their own cafeteria, mainly because of the hissy fit thrown by Stark about having to eat with lowly S.H.I.E.L.D agents. He really was an ass.

Darcy was left on her own today. There was a little table in the corner that she liked to sit at by herself, that had a great view of the camera feed from outside Avengers Headquarters. That was another source of ridicule: her keeping tabs on the fancrowd. There were always comments about her trying to pick out her next conquest.

Now she had a different purpose. She wanted to see if Luke was out there. He'd seemed so invested in the heroes. After what he had described happened in his family, she couldn't blame him. She'd be looking for heroes too. Family could be so cruel. They could twist you and cut you without ever meaning to. Make you feel inadequate and stupid. She understood that completely.

Luke was tall enough that he would stand out in the crowd (fans always seemed to be shorter, for some weird reason). But after watching through three complete scans of the camera (it did a slow, constant, panoramic sweep), she couldn't see him. Well, he said he'd had things to attend to. But she'd been hoping to see him again soon. She really didn't like waiting.

She'd Googled 'acquisistions' earlier in the day, to find out what type of job it was, and the descriptions had left it pretty open. It was the act of acquiring things. Since what was being acquired hadn't been described, that left Luke's new career very vague. Which just waved a few more of those flags that she was ignoring. And he'd never said what the family business was. So she really didn't know anything about him. Except that he was incredibly appealing, a little bit vulnerable, and probably very dangerous. Sigh. Probably exactly the type that Jane was afraid of.

Screw it. Darcy didn't care. She'd always been somewhat careless in going after things she wanted. Why should she stop now?

She flipped off someone walking by who made a lewd comment about her fancrowd perusal. Fuck them all, she really didn't care. Apparently, it was okay for them to go out to bars and pick up random strangers to fuck, but she was a weirdo for picking up fans. It wasn't like she one-nighted them. Her conquests usually lasted for a couple of weeks before she got bored, or they decided to move on. It really pissed her off that the people she worked with could be so judgmental and self-righteous.

She headed back to the Darcy Zone ten minutes early. Whatever. The only reason she went to the cafeteria was to watch the fans anyhow. Losers.

The Darcy Zone wasn't empty. "What the fuck do you want?" she yelled, thinking it was Stark lounging in her chair. She could see legs up on her desk.

But it wasn't, she saw, when she rounded the cubicle wall. It was Fury, waiting for her. Fingers steepled together. Looking like the badass that he was.

Darcy curled her upper lip. "Sorry Nick. Thought you were Stark. He's already visited once today."

One eyebrow arched. "You know, if you'd just fuck him, he'd leave you alone."

"Not gonna happen. His dick has been inside so many women, it's like a Biohazard 10. Not even condoms could prevent the spread of what he's probably got. Besides, I don't like to go where so many have gone before." She plopped down on her desk beside his legs. "What do you need, Nick?"

Coulson had reprimanded her twice before, for not using Fury's title. Darcy didn't really feel he deserved it. Director Fury? Nah. If she met Steven Spielberg, she wouldn't be calling him Director Spielberg, and Fury's job was about the same as his. He too directed a bunch of primadonna stars. Just because the ones that Nick dealt with were doing things other than acting didn't entitle him to be called Director.

Besides, Fury didn't care. It only seemed to bother Coulson. Fury was one of the more tolerable S.H.I.E.L.D personnel.

"You're transcribing the Loki sightings right now?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have to tell you that what's on those papers is 100% classified, right?"

"Please. I don't talk about this shit to anyone."

"Not even your fanboys?"

Fucking asshole. "Nick, don't make me not like you. You're on the verge right now."

He grinned, but it was humorless. "Fair enough. Where are the papers right now?"

"Locked up, like they're supposed to be when I'm not with them."

"And the key?"

"Up my ass. Wanna take a look?"

"You're a smartass, Lewis."

"Yeah. The key is with me, Nick. Like it's supposed to be."

"Fine. I don't want a hint of Loki sightings hitting the floor." He pointed in the general direction of the main area, where all the assholes were. "They don't need to know."

"I don't talk to them anyhow," she assured. "Anything else?"

He pulled his legs off her desk, and stood, towering over her. It was a lame attempt to be threatening that she'd gotten over a long time ago. "Not for now." He walked out of her cubicle without a second glance.

Darcy settled back in with a sigh. Work sucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki's POV in this chapter. Reminder – Loki is not nice in this story. Consider yourself warned. I'm not saying there isn't hope for redemption later…but right now, he's very not nice.

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><p>Being noticed by the tempting, luscious mortal girl was an unexpected stroke of luck.<p>

In the months following his fall to Midgard, Loki had raged while his broken body knitted. The primitive mortals that had found him had worshipped him as the god he was. In the sun and dust and heat, they had watched over him while he healed. Had he been capable of gratitude, he might have felt it. But the capacity for positive emotion had been ripped away. Only darkness remained. Darkness and a burning desire for revenge. Revenge against his stupid not-brother for having the audacity to still care about him, even after Loki had tried to kill him. And especially revenge against his not-father for denying him.

The rage sustained him through the pain and despair. Everything Loki had known about himself had been a lie. Everything had changed when his skin turned blue. His soul, his sanity, had splintered. Destroying Jotunheim to gain Odin's approval had been a focus, holding his fragile psyche together. With two words, "No Loki," Odin had taken away the only thing holding him together. Letting go, falling, had been the only scenario he could live with, so to speak. Loki had never expected to be transported to another realm. He had expected to be obliterated in the disintegrating wormhole. Instead, he had been pushed through to Midgard and had fallen. Surviving the fall was unfortunate.

The worship of the primitives had been strangely gratifying. It had been a balm to his wounded soul, and eventually Loki had realized that he deserved to be worshipped. No one on Asgard had ever seen that. He had always been an outsider there. But he was so much better than them. Why had he wasted centuries of his life trying to belong somewhere that he was not appreciated? Midgard was a ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked. When the mortal world was at his feet, he would return to Asgard and bring that realm to its knees. They would grovel before him, and he would not be merciful.

But first his body had to heal. Nearly everything had broken on impact. His body had shattered like his soul. At least his body would heal. He had enough magic left after the fall to force the broken bones back into place and hold them there. It was excruciating. He blamed Thor and Odin. They had ruined everything he had started in Asgard.

The primitives brought him food and drink, to sustain his healing body. Their women bathed him daily, even though water had to be carried in to him, sometimes from a great distance. Had his body not been so shattered, he might have even become aroused with their adoring cleansing. They were not shy about gently stroking a rag doused in healing herb-infused water along every inch of his bare skin. But arousal was not possible with so much pain skittering along his nerve endings.

Loki endured. The days were long and the nights brought no respite. There was no sleeping with the amount of pain he endured. Relief only came when he was so tired he literally passed out, and then he could only sleep for a short period of time before the pain woke him. Had Loki been in full possession of his abilities, people may have died. But he could not focus enough to do anything other than hold his shattered body together.

It seemed an eternity. He lived three lifetimes or more. But one day, the pain was less than it had been. Slowly, gradually, the pain faded every day. His bones were still knitting, still held together with his magic, but the excruciating pain faded. It was replaced by a deep ache that was only slightly more tolerable.

He was still unable to do anything. All of his energy, his strength, was invested in holding his body together. Some days, he wondered why he tried so hard. He had expected to die, after all. He had wanted to die. But when he had not, it seemed that there was a purpose to his survival. That purpose was to rule Midgard and bring Asgard low.

One triumphant day, he cautiously loosened his magical hold, and found that all the bones stayed where they were supposed to. Not fully healed, but the bones were bonded well enough that they would not come apart on their own now. It was a relief to his resources, and might possibly allow him to sleep now that the worst of the pain had passed. He toyed with the idea of trying to force the bones to knit faster with magic, but he wasn't sure if they would heal solidly that way, so he just let it happen naturally.

Now that he no longer needed to hold his body together magically, his mind was freed to plot and plan his takeover. The brief glimpses he'd had of Midgard, through the Destroyer, had provided little information that he could use. He needed to learn about Midgard's government and military strength, and he doubted that his current worshippers could help with that. He was unable to understand their language, and unwilling to expend any magical energy to learn it, since it was unlikely they could help.

It was frustrating, only able to lie there helplessly. He was still unable to move, for fear of shifting the healing bones out of place. So he raged impotently within the confines of his own mind. The rage ricocheted within him, building dangerously like the Bifrost had when he'd unleashed it on Jotunheim. Something would have to be destroyed, when he recovered enough to do it.

Food began to have taste again, which told Loki that his recovery was going well. Previously, everything had tasted like ash. The primitive women servants had enough sense to mash his food into an easily swallowed paste, as chewing was not an option. A wooden spoon was used to deliver this food paste into his mouth, which he then swallowed. Water was delivered the same way. He could not take much of either, but he managed enough to survive. Once he could move…he would be able to drink and eat more. That would hasten his recovery.

He needed meat though, or bone marrow. It might be mixed up in the food paste, but he couldn't be sure, since he could not communicate with his worshippers. Both would help his bones knit faster. Once he could move…which would be in the next thousand years, or so it seemed. Loki was not accustomed to forced idleness, and it was agitating, frustrating.

Another sign of his recovery was arousal. He'd been startled one day to feel his body react to the gentle stroking of his bathing women. To his shock, the woman stroking him had leaned over and took him into her mouth. His reaction was pure instinct; he arched with a groan that turned into a pained cry. He immediately collapsed back to a prone position, panting and grimacing with the spiking pain radiating through his body. The woman who had caused it was apologetic; he could see that emotion on her dark face. He wanted to kill her for a moment, but thought better of it. He still couldn't move, and killing someone would encourage retaliation. He was an easy target right now.

The aborted pleasure session left him in an even fouler mood than before. Loki expended some precious magical energy and destroyed a nearby copse of trees. His worshippers very smartly kept their distance, recognizing the black fury in his expression. He wanted to do more, but had to conserve his energy.

As he recovered, his mood grew blacker. He was closer and closer to being able to do something about the way he'd been so cruelly lied to. He had been cast aside, a relic that had no purpose when Odin realized that Laufey did not want peace. What a wasted effort it must have been for the All-Father. All those centuries of being father to a monster, only to find that the monster could serve no purpose. It must have left a bitter taste in Odin's mouth. And poor, clueless Thor, with no idea that his so called brother was the very thing that he hated most.

Thor, the favored one. It made Loki crazy with rage and jealousy. Why had Odin ever even pretended that he was considering Loki for the throne? Why not just tell him that Thor would inherit because he was the eldest? Why let him entertain the hope that he was worthy?

He would have his revenge. His not-father and not-brother would suffer the same emotions he had experienced. He would strip away everything they had ever believed in, and make them realize they were monsters.

It still seemed an eternity until the day he could move. He began slowly, raising an arm and then a leg. There was pain, but in tolerable levels. His magic told him that the bones were fully healed, finally. He was so very weak though, body withered to practically nothing. He'd always been on the slender side, but now he was gaunt and wasted. His recovery was not yet over.

He could not even sit up on his own. He had to wait until his women servants arrived. With a few vague hand gestures, he managed to convey his request. They slid hands under his back and shoulders, and eased him into a sitting position. Loki was appalled when the world swam in front of his eyes, and he swayed dangerously. His faithful servants were there to support him.

Eating and building his wasted muscles became his primary focus. Some days, Loki felt like he would vomit from all the food he was stuffing into his body. He conveyed a desire for meat, and had it delivered at least twice a day. One day, he tore apart an indeterminate carcass that had been roasted over a fire to crack open the bones, and suck the marrow from them. His servants noted this, and he had roasted bones on a regular basis.

Rebuilding his wasted body was tedious and painful. It made him very irritable, and wanting to destroy something, but he was still conserving his energy. He would not expend it on simple irritability.

For the first time since the arousal incident, Loki saw the brazen young woman who'd attempted to pleasure him. She slipped in with the other bathers. He still allowed himself to be bathed, mostly because he was too weak to complete it on his own, but also because it was nice to be pampered.

He watched the girl out of the corner of one eye. She was watching him, wondering and calculating. He didn't miss her glances toward his groin, and he was stirring there before the bathers even stroked him. One dark look sent the rest of the bathers out of the hut he was enshrined in, leaving him alone with the saucy girl who'd dared to put her mouth on a god.

She became one of his most frequent forms of physical therapy. At first, Loki could do nothing more than lay there. He would become aroused, and he would achieve release, but he had no strength to do more than that. Gradually, as days passed, he began to participate. As he was better able to function, he began taking his frustrations out on the girl who thought herself worthy of a god. She never complained at his rough treatment. Why would she? She should be honored to be bedding a god.

In a way, it was peaceful and relaxing to bed a woman and not have to worry about the inevitable comparison to Thor. Asgardian women had been stupidly enamored of his not-brother, falling all over themselves to fall into his bed. Loki had been a second choice, a consolation prize for a woman who was unable to bed Thor, or bed him again. Thor had believed in variety, so he seldom revisited a conquest.

Of course, in different times, Loki would not have bedded a primitive mortal, but he had little selection at the moment. He was not yet ready to leave the safety of his hut/shrine and venture into the world. His magic was slow to recover and he would need it at full strength. And he could not yet stand or walk for more than a few minutes.

It seemed such a long time, as he forced his healed body to strengthen. There was pain again, as atrophied muscles protested their use. But this pain was only an annoyance. It was not all-consuming, as the pain of his shattered body had been. Loki welcomed this pain, because it told him he was finally recovering.

He ventured out into the sun and dust and heat more often. At first, walking was tortuous, with pins and needles shooting up and down his body. He staggered like a child just learning to walk, often bumping into things. Had he not been accompanied by an honor guard of the primitive males, he would have fallen. But every time he listed too far to one side, he was supported so that he did not fall.

His worshippers did not understand his desire for clothes. What they had done with the clothes he had fallen in, he did not know. He had been given a loin cloth. For someone accustomed to being covered while around others, the sight of his bare skin was disquieting. He wanted to be clothed again. He'd always been uncomfortable with his lean body, since it was obviously not the body of a warrior. A small expenditure of magic was all it took for him to be clothed once more. His worshippers fell to their knees before him when he first ventured out of his hut in his usual regalia. The sight of their groveling filled a place deep inside Loki that had been empty for too long.

One day he woke, and felt his magic at full level. His physical recovery was not complete yet, but Loki was unwilling to wait any longer. It was time to depart this place, and learn more of Midgard. Feeling somewhat nostalgic, yet very mean, he waited for his final bathing. He still allowed the women to bathe him, because it gave him pleasure. After they lovingly removed his clothing and bathed him, they all filed out except for his bedding partner.

He took her roughly, pressing her down into the grass covered pallet where he had lain for so long. She made no protests, as she had become accustomed to absorbing his frustrations. When Loki forced his body to resume its natural form; however, she did protest with a frightened scream. The god had suddenly become a blue-skinned, red-eyed demon. She became very still, looking up at him with large, frightened eyes as he achieved release for the very first time in his Jotun form. The blue slowly faded, as he resumed what he considered his normal form. He drew back, calmly pulling his clothes on. Without a backward glance, he left the hut.

He altered his clothing to more acceptable Midgardian wear, similar to what he'd worn when he'd visited his not-brother in confinement. He then transported himself to the nearest large city, allowing his magic to seek it out.

He spent weeks traveling, learning what he could of government and military strength. Midgard rule was fractured, with uncounted governing bodies. There was no united rule. Loki had honestly never paid attention to Midgard. Mortals held no interest for him. But now that he had experienced the benefits of being worshipped, he would unite this fractured realm. They would all bow before him.

It was in some city in what he came to know as Europe that he first learned of Thor's return to Midgard. A giggling group of young women were walking by him when one commented about the "delicious God of Thunder." Loki whipped around so quickly he nearly fell, and reached out to catch the girl's arm.

"What about the God of Thunder?" he asked intently, as the girl's friends scattered in fright.

His captive stared up at him with large eyes. "I think he's hot," she whispered.

"Tell me of him."

He interrogated all of the girls, absorbing all that they could tell about Thor, and the Midgardian version of Sif and the Warriors 3 he was now part of. Avengers. He liked the name. It gave the impression of action after the fact. They would avenge wrongdoings and such, because they could not prevent them.

He began stopping random mortals and asking questions about these heroes, the Avengers. It seemed like Thor was the only one of the lot who he needed to worry about. The others had no special abilities that could harm Loki.

He wanted to transport immediately to the place where the heroes gathered, but had to caution himself. He needed more information in order to make plans to bring about his not-brother's downfall. Haste would only cause mistakes. Look what had happened in Asgard. Loki needed to control his impulses, and do what he did best. Plan and orchestrate the mayhem and chaos he would unleash.

He continued to travel for several more weeks, learning what he could. It sickened him. Thor had seemingly returned to his old ways, since these heroes had throngs of adoring, worshipping fans. It made Loki very angry. Thor was always being worshipped. It was time for new rule. These mortals would worship him only! If they would not, then he would make sure that they screamed his name as they died. Although it might be more satisfying if they screamed Thor's name. It would drive the God of Thunder crazy, knowing that he could not save those that worshipped him.

When he finally felt confident that his body had regained the strength it had lost, Loki transported himself to New York. It was very overwhelming at first, even with the experience he'd already had with Midgardian cities, but no one even glanced at him a second time. He could blend in here, easily. There were stranger sights than him currently walking on the designated paths beside the city streets. Loki was fairly tame himself.

He spent a day lingering several blocks away from the headquarters of the so-called heroes. He watched the fans with little interest, until he realized that they would provide the perfect cover. The heroes didn't ever look at the fans, so they would never see the danger lurking within them. It was too perfect.

As dusk fell, the fans were forcible dispersed by men in matching uniforms. Loki appreciated the order. No nighttime lurking. He took himself away, lest he be questioned.

The next day, he joined the crowd. He had altered his clothes back to his normal Asgardian wear, as it was less likely to call attention to himself in this crowd. Or so he thought.

As he was staring hard at the building where his not-brother was, a voice intruded on his concentration.

"You probably want to change into regular clothes, if you want a shot."

He swiveled slowly, feeling a little upset with the person who would intrude upon him. She was short; he had to look down to see her face. For a second, there was fear on her face. Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. He got a better look at her, and rethought things a little. Short, yes, but with sweet curves well hidden by her bulky clothes. Her lips, painted a sinful red, were full. Her hair was a dark, thick mass that tumbled down over her shoulders. Loki felt a stirring of desire, and decided that she would be his first conquest. He would make her worship him.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, forcing his natural tenseness to ease a little. He wanted to draw her in, not scare her away.

Maybe he needed to be less inviting, as her full lips parted, and a flush of desire spread up her cheeks. But then again, it appeared as if she were already hooked.

As they spoke, Loki realized that this mortal could prove useful. He would cultivate her, but slowly. He could make her crazy with desire, so that her thoughts would only be of him. His loyal devotee.

She introduced herself as Darcy. He gave her a fake name that was close to his own, just in case Thor had spoken of him to others. He'd heard the name in Europe, while watching what the mortals called a 'movie'. It was an epic tale that had spanned galaxies and focused on an unlikely hero. Loki had quickly been bored with it, since he would have much rather seen the machine-man villain win.

When she nervously offered to show him where to find acceptable clothing, he gave her a nervous, grateful smile, and watched her practically melt. She was putty in his hand. This could prove to be enjoyable.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the slow updates, everyone. It's hard to write when you keep dozing off, but things are better now. Thanks for your patience!

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><p>It was too fucking early to deal with Tony fucking Stark. Darcy debated punching him in the mouth and running, but figured one of his fans among the S.H.I.E.L.D agents would probably try to stop her. It wasn't worth it. But she had woken up with a headache, and she was itching for some good action, so she was very cranky, and she really didn't want to deal with him.<p>

He was standing at the entrance to the Darcy Zone, leering at her. He wasn't usually awake this early due to his usual nighttime activities of drinking and whoring, but for some reason he was there, looking alert. Undressing her with his eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked shortly.

"You could at least pretend to be civilized," he chided, folding his arms across his chest.

That was accurate enough to cause her to wince. "You're right. Good morning Tony. What are you doing here so early?"

"That's better. You shouldn't forget your manners." He stepped aside so she could get into her desk, and then leaned back against her cubicle wall. "Coulson wants to see you as soon as you get situated."

"About what?"

"Don't know," he admitted, scratching at his facial hair. "He was very irritated about something, though."

Oh shit. She wondered what she'd done to piss off Coulson this time.

Stark was wondering the same thing apparently. "What did you do? Blab some S.H.I.E.L.D secret during pillow talk? Oh wait, that's right…you didn't get any the other night."

For a moment, he had almost been likable, but then he had to go and fuck it up. "Get out, Stark. I'm not in the mood for you this early."

He stared at her for a little, then finally sauntered away. Darcy relaxed a little, but only long enough to turn the computer on to log herself in for the day. Then she went to Coulson's office. It was like the walk of shame, because everyone out on the floor could see where she was going. Darcy threw her nose up into the air and ignored the catcalls.

Coulson was on the phone, as always, when she knocked on his door and then poked her head into his office. He nodded at her, and gestured to the empty chair on the other side of his pristine desk. Darcy had heard a saying somewhere that a compulsively neat desk was the sign of a disturbed mind. It worked in relation to Coulson. The man had such a creepy smile and an expression that never changed. She had seen him return from a less than successful mission one time, covered in mud and blood, and his expression was still scarily serene.

She flopped down into the empty chair, hooking one leg up over its arm, and leaning back. Coulson was talking to Fury, she could hear. He looked pointedly at her leg, and then up at her, and Darcy blew him a kiss. The only sign that he was annoyed was a little twitch of his mouth. She could seriously make it her life's quest to undo the man's composure.

He finally clicked the phone shut. "Miss Lewis, thank you for coming so promptly."

She batted her eyelashes at him. "But Phil, I haven't 'come' yet. Would you like to help me with that?"

"Not at this time, no." Damn, he was good. He didn't even blink.

"Shit. I could use some help, you know. The battery operated boyfriend does its job, but it gets awfully lonely."

"I'm sure that it does." His tone conveyed so much more than his words. "Director Fury tells me that you've been transcribing the sighting reports."

She sat up a little bit, pulling her leg down. Maybe she wasn't in trouble. "Yes."

He nodded. "We have a detainee who we believe spoke to Loki. She will not talk to us. We determined that she was a Thor fan, so we sent Thor in to try to get information from her."

Darcy smacked her forehead. "Really Phil? That's possibly the worst idea you've ever had." Thor wasn't subtle enough to interrogate anyone. He had probably shaken the woman when she refused to talk.

"Agreed," he said simply. "Now the woman will not talk at all. Not even to Natasha or any of our female agents."

Darcy shook her head. "Natasha is scarier than the guys, Phil. And I haven't seen a female S.H.I.E.L.D agent yet that wasn't scary. Why am I here?"

"This girl is a fan. You regularly interact with the fans. We thought maybe you could get her to talk."

Darcy blinked at him. "You want me to pose as an agent? Cuz I'm not, you know. I just do data entry, mostly."

"I want you to pose as whatever it takes to get this woman to talk. We need all of the information that we can get about Loki."

Darcy thought about it. "Okay. I'll need some fan gear, though."

"Take what you need from the merchandise store." Coulson handed her an agency credit card.

"Sweet, Phil! Can I use this for my 'interactions' with the fans too?"

He still didn't blink. Was the man a eunuch or what? "No Miss Lewis. Not unless I tell you to." He stood. "When you are ready, come back to my office. If I find any charges on that card that are questionable, I will assign you as Stark's personal assistant for a month."

Darcy stood also. "That's mean, Phil. Do you really want Stark to be castrated?"

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Some days…more than you know. You are dismissed."

Darcy backed out of his office, and then headed for the elevator and the ground floor. This was the public level that contained the merchandise shop that helped fund the Avengers, and it also had the public relations office. This elevator was possibly more secure than the main one, since it did open into a publicly frequented area. She had to swipe her id badge and provide a thumb print to get the elevator to open for her. Inside was another retinal scanner.

She rode it down to the ground level. The elevator opened into a janitor's closet. The reasoning behind that was that the general public would not think to poke around in a janitor's closet. The janitor's closet itself opened into a maintenance room, which led into a back hallway. There was a peephole in each door, so that anyone exiting the janitor's closet or maintenance room could look to see if anyone was outside first. It was the cloak and dagger shit like this that made the job more interesting.

The employees in the merchandise store were regular people, not S.H.I.E.L.D agents. They had access only to the public level of Avengers Headquarters, and had no idea that a super secret government agency was housed in the upper levels of the building. They assumed that Darcy worked in the public relations office, since they had seen her before, and she never entered from the street. She did not correct their assumptions.

She wandered around a bit, checking out the new merchandise. She liked the Thor action figure with the launching hammer. Thor had gotten one before they hit the shelves, and he had played with it in delight for hours. The Captain America Nerf Launching Shield was cool too. There had been a spontaneous fight between the Captain, Stark, Thor and Barton with those Nerf shields. Fury had finally had to yell at them to act like adults, since they had been racing around the office shooting each other.

But action figures were not what she was looking for. She went to the clothing section and picked out several items, deciding to be a Hawkeye fan. She'd had a casual thing with Barton when she first relocated to New York. He wasn't too arrogant, and he was relatively good in bed. But she didn't feel anything for him other than fondness, and he was mad-obsessed with Natasha, so they'd quickly ended it. He was definitely her favorite after Thor though. They still hooked up sometimes when neither of them were seeing action elsewhere. He had been on her shit list for awhile. She was pretty sure he had shared some intimate details with Stark, and that's why the billionaire man-whore wouldn't leave her alone. But he'd made it up to her since then by defending her to the obnoxious S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

Just to get Coulson's boxers in a bunch, she grabbed a pack of Iron Man condoms. 'Iron Protection worth Billions!' the package proclaimed proudly. She'd justify it somehow. She took her armful of items to the register and handed over her S.H.I.E.L.D credit card in delight. It was nice not to be paying for something for a change.

She ducked back into the super secret spy elevator (at least that's how she thought of it), and went back up to her floor. There was a bathroom near Coulson's office, and she changed into the fan gear there. Yuck. Purple pants and a black tee with Barton's grim countenance, arrow knocked to his cheek. How cheesy. She also had the purple Hawkeye backpack. She looked like a total geek. To stay in character, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and scrubbed off her lipstick. She looked young, plain, and totally geeky.

Coulson actually did a double take when she walked into his office. Then he nodded. "Good idea."

Darcy grinned. "I need a couple of agents to manhandle me into the same interrogation room," she instructed.

"Done." He flipped open his phone and made a brief call, and then flipped the phone shut. "Find out everything you can about her conversation with the alleged Loki." His direct, unblinking stare was a little disturbing. "We'll be listening live, and recording any conversations. It would be best if you just play the part of a fangirl."

Darcy nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement that she would be doing actual agent work. She looked away from Coulson's stare. It was a powerful stare that could even unnerve Tony Stark. She'd seen it happen one day. Stark had done something outrageous and potentially embarrassing. There had been no over the top yelling, or big boisterous gestures. Coulson had delivered his message in a soft tone, with his freaky little smile. She hadn't heard what he'd said, but Stark had taken two steps back, eyes wide. Then he'd swallowed, hard. It had been like Christmas and her birthday all in one!

It was a freaky getting roughly dragged by a pair of very grim looking S.H.I.E.L.D agents. These two were assigned to the Avengers permanently, so they knew not to ask questions when their boss told them what to do with Darcy. They manhandled her through a couple hallways, and then shoved her inside an interrogation room.

Darcy stumbled artfully, almost falling on her backside. "Jerks!" she yelled, as the door whooshed shut behind them. She turned and jumped in faked surprise as she saw the other occupant of the room. Younger and smaller than herself, very timid looking, with platinum blond hair.

"Wow you scared me," she said, breathing dramatically for a moment, hand on her chest. "They snagged you too? Stupid government assholes." There were two chairs in the room, one obviously for the interrogator. Darcy flopped down onto that one, and dumped her backpack on the floor. She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a pack of Juicy Fruit gum. "Want a piece?" She extended the pack toward the timid blond, silently cheering when she took a stick of gum. Darcy pulled her own stick, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth.

She chewed happily for a few minutes, and then seemed to deflate a little bit. "I don't like being locked up," she admitted, head turning from one side to another nervously. "And I didn't even do anything! I don't know why I'm here. This totally sucks!"

She snapped her gum noisily, one foot tapping on the floor. "How long do you think they'll let me sit in here?" She drummed her fingers on the table. "A friend of mine heard that the Avengers might be coming out to say hi today, maybe sign some autographs, have some photo ops…dammit! I can't stay in here if there's a chance of that!"

She popped to her feet, and crossed the room to hammer on the door with her fist. "Hey! Hey I can't stay in here all day!"

No one came, and Darcy slumped in defeat. She shuffled back over to the chair, and sat down. "This sucks. How long have you been here?"

"Hours," the blond whispered. "They yelled at me. Then…they sent in…" She sniffed loudly. "They sent Thor in. He's my favorite. But…he…he yelled at me too."

Darcy was proud that she had had the foresight to purchase the Avenger logo tissues. She dug in her garish purple bag, and handed the pack of tissues to the blond, who was now leaking tears.

"I'm sorry, that really sucks. Ohmigosh! Do you think they'll send Hawkeye in to yell at me? That would be really cool! I mean, not cool that he would yell at me, but cool that he would be right here!" She bit her lip. "Wasn't it cool to be that close to Thor?"

The blond sighed, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. "He smelled incredible. And he's so big and awesome. But he just looked angry."

Darcy reached across the table to pat her hand. "I'm sorry. I'll bet he wasn't angry at you. It's probably Avenger business, and you know how serious they get about that."

The blond sniffed again. "I know. It's just…it wasn't the way I pictured meeting him, you know? I wanted him to, you know, fall in love with me. Instead he just yelled at me, and then left." She heaved a shuddering sigh. "It's stupid anyhow. They just want to know about some weirdo creep I talked to while on vacation in London."

Darcy blinked. "All this for talking to someone? Really? That seems a little excessive."

The blond nodded. "I think he's a big baddie, judging from their desperation. I wasn't all that impressed. He looked pale and really skinny. I was with my girlfriends. We were talking about the Avengers while sightseeing. My girl Tina, she's totally obsessed with Captain America. And I mentioned that the God of Thunder was my favorite. This creep just grabbed my arm and wanted to know what I knew about Thor. He kept asking questions."

"Weird. You don't think he was one of those stalker types, do you?"

The blond sat back in her chair. "I don't know. He wasn't comfortable. With the crowds, or his clothes, or anything. It was like he was…itching in his skin. He twitched a lot, and kept looking at everything. He rubbed at his hands a lot and stared at them like they were going to change, or something. It was really creepy."

Darcy didn't have to fake her fascination. "What did he want to know?"

The girl spread her hands. "It didn't seem to be anything specific. He asked about Thor, and how I knew about the God of Thunder. So I was explaining about the Avengers, and he wanted to know about all of them, like he'd never heard of them. C'mon, really? Was he living in a hole or something?"

"So he hadn't heard of the Avengers?"

"He acted like he hadn't. He kept asking questions about what they could do, where they were located, all that stuff." The blond girl shrugged. "It was weird, like I said. Then he just disappeared. Like he had special powers or something." Her eyes flashed. "Do you think he's the next hot thing in super villains?"

"Maybe." Darcy frowned. "I guess that would be sort of cool. You know, getting to meet a super villain before he became famous."

The blond girl sat up straighter, with a bright smile. "Yeah. It would be. Think about all those people who knew Doom before he went evil! They cashed in big time with all the interviews and TV appearances." She was very excited. "I'm Tina, by the way."

"Kelly," Darcy returned. She was not using her real name. Just in case. "So…if he's an up and coming super villain, what is this guy's thing? Super powers? Regular guy with some kind of mad skill?" She indicated the face on her tee. "Alien god from another world?"

"Undead sorcerer from hell," the blond, Tina, decided. "He's no warrior. Too skinny and weak looking. He looked like he spent all of his time hunched over spell books, plotting something."

"Yuck. Any weapons? Mystical staffs and that shit?"

"Not that I saw." Tina tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But he moved like he expected it to hurt. Does that make sense? You know how when you hurt for so long, and you favor that hurt, and then it doesn't hurt anymore, but you still expect it to?"

"Hmm….I wonder where he came from? Was he ethnic at all?"

"Nope. No clue from looking at him. I assume he was European, he had an accent."

"And he disappeared? Like turned invisible disappeared?"

"I thought of that! So I waved my hands all around where he'd been and felt nothing. I'm thinking a teleport of some kind. He was definitely there. It wasn't a projection or anything, because he grabbed my arm."

"Did he seem like he was worried when he learned about the Avengers, and what they can do?"

The blond girl shook her head. "No. The more we talked, the bigger his creepy smile got. Like we were giving him the best news in the world. It was so creepy. He looked…crazy. There were red rings around his eyes. It really freaked me out."

Darcy was trying to think of what else Coulson would want to know. "He sounds creepy. You don't know where he was going when he disappeared."

"No. He didn't talk about himself at all. But I'd bet he was coming here. He wanted to rip the Avengers apart, especially Thor."

The door whooshed open. Darcy looked up, and had to bite back her smile when she saw Barton walking in wearing his Hawkeye regalia, looking grim. She went all fangirl gooshy on him, mouth dropping open.

"Ohmigosh. Ohmighosh."

"I need you to come with me, girl," he instructed, pointing to Darcy.

Tina almost squealed. "Go for it," she whispered as Darcy stood, scooping her Hawkeye backpack off the floor.

Darcy kept in character as she was marched away in Clint's custody. He was so grim looking that if she hadn't seen him naked, she might have been scared. But it was really hard to be scared of someone after you've seen their orgasm face. And his was priceless, so there was no way he was scaring her.

She didn't break character until the door to Coulson's office closed behind them. Darcy slung herself into the empty chair, ignoring Barton's irritated huff that he'd have to stand. She smirked up at him, then finally turned her gaze to the man behind the desk. Wow. Coulson looked…was that a pleased expression? Was that what it looked like? It was possibly creepier than his usual look.

"Ms. Lewis – I've underestimated you. That was a masterful performance. I may recruit you to train agents on how to interrogate fans."

"I'd be more impressed if you got them to stop making nasty comments about my dating habits."

"I can't promise that," Coulson returned calmly. "But I will make sure that everyone knows that you completed a successful interrogation when eight others tried and failed."

"Eight others?" Darcy gaped at him. No wonder the poor girl hadn't talked to anyone. They'd been throwing agents at her since she'd been taken into custody, and not one of them bothered to try to talk to the girl. She could just imagine Thor's attempt. He was very relentless in the pursuit of more information about his brother. He had been sure that Loki was dead, and finding out that he might be alive was driving him insane. He would have shouted quite a bit when Tina wouldn't talk.

"Thank you very much for your help. I'll be in touch about agent training in the future." Coulson apparently considered that a dismissal, so Darcy stood.

"Send Thor in to talk to her," she suggested. "Nicely."

Coulson looked up at her in speculation. "I'll consider it."

That was definitely a dismissal, so Darcy exited Coulson's office, heading for the nearby bathroom so she could change back into her normal clothes. She wasn't alone. Barton tagged along beside her, not saying anything. He did that a lot. The not-speaking thing. It usually meant he was looking for booty, but ashamed to ask for it. It was probably giving him a thrill to see her decked out in his fan clothes.

When he started to follow her into the bathroom, Darcy spun to face him. She planted herself in the doorway, and folded her arms across her chest.

"What's on your mind, Barton?"

He took a long leisurely look at her, lips twisted up in faint amusement. "You look good with me on you, Darce."

She laughed, she couldn't help it. "OMG Clint! That's like the worst pickup line ever!"

He shrugged, bluish eyes crinkling in suppressed mirth. "Is it working? I heard-"

"If you say anything about me striking out the other night, I'm gonna punch you." Darcy glared at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Well? Care to get rewarded for being a Hawkeye fan? Fangirl's dream, right? Scoring the superhero?" He flexed his impressive arms and struck up a hero's pose.

He was over the top. Darcy bit her lip, but couldn't stop the smile. "Why do I like you, Barton?"

"Cuz I'm more humble than any of the others?" He gave her a puppy dog look. "And I'm good for scratching that itch you got going."

"That's probably it, yeah. All right arrow boy. After my shift ends. Meet me in the tunnel."

His eyes flashed. "Sounds dirty. I'll be there. Incognito, of course."

"Of course. Now get out of here. This is a women's bathroom, and your below-the-belt appendage disqualifies you."

He grinned, and then spun on his heel and departed. Darcy laughed to herself, and entered the bathroom with a lighter outlook. The night was looking up, and after the disappointment of not landing the delicious Luke, she needed a pick me up.

* * *

><p><em>I'll admit, DarcyClint has become a guilty pleasure of mine. So….I thought I'd let you, the readers, decide how the night goes for Darcy. Some fun times with Clint? Or not? Let me know in your reviews!_


	5. Chapter 5

The reviewers have spoken….

I had to really play with this chapter to get it to where I wanted it to go.

Naughty times ahead…fair warning.

* * *

><p>Quitting time…finally! It had been the longest afternoon ever. Darcy logged off her computer, double and triple checked the lock box where the un-transcribed reports were secured overnight, and draped the key around her neck. She had put it on a simple silver chain when Coulson had first given it to her, so she would never lose it.<p>

Apparently, her bounce and impatience had been noticed, because there were catcalls as she headed for the elevator. Darcy ignored them. They really weren't worth her time, and she had an energetic night planned. It was nice having a friend with occasional benefits who just happened to be a hot superhero. She hoped all the catty female S.H.I.E.L.D agents were dining on envy right now.

She managed to get the elevator to herself, and pushed the door shut button before two other agents could get in, smirking at their irate expressions. Serves them right for being rude to her. She thumbed the T button that sent the elevator down to the tunnel level.

When the elevator opened up into the Freddy Krueger tunnel scene, she could see several agents almost at the end of the tunnel on the other side. Other than that, it looked deserted. She knew better, and began a leisurely stroll down the tunnel.

About midway, the scuff of a sneaker on the rough floor was enough to warn her before Barton stepped out from between some fake pipes. He was completely incognito, wearing a sweatshirt hoodie with the hood pulled up. He had taken to wearing a fake beard and mustache, both dark brown, to go with the straggly dark brown wig he wore. Darcy didn't think any of the other Avengers went to that extreme to stay unrecognized, but Clint liked to keep his private life private, so he went out of his way. He didn't look anything like himself, so it would be safe to walk through the streets with her without being recognized.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna have to escort you home," he warned. "There are some unsavory characters out there."

Darcy looked him up and down. "Yeah, you're one of them. You look like a junkie."

"Live dangerously," he responded with a wicked grin.

Darcy rolled her eyes and resumed her walk. She was still carrying her bright purple Hawkeye backpack, now stuffed with the fanclothes she'd bought. She pulled it off her shoulder and rummaged inside, finally pulling out the package of Iron Man condoms, and waving them at Clint.

"I'm all prepared. Stark has our back."

"That's fucking sick, girl! There's no way I am using those!"

Darcy turned her head and looked at him. Barton, even beneath the fake facial hair, looked thoroughly disgusted. "What's wrong, Clint? It's iron protection worth billions. We don't want any little Darcy/Clintlets running around."

"They have Stark's face on them," he answered. "That's just…creepy. I am not putting his face anywhere close to my junk."

She laughed, and dropped the condoms back into her backpack. "You're no fun."

"I'm not paid to be, and you really don't expect me to be." He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Be honest – doesn't it freak you out thinking about his face going into…well, you know."

Hmm…good point. "I see your point," she conceded. "No. I don't want his face on your junk or in mine."

Darcy quickened her pace. He was taking ridiculously short strides to match her pace, so she thought she'd help him out a little. She couldn't help that she had short legs when compared to almost any guy.

"You want to grab grub? I need to eat and I don't feel like wasting time making anything."

He grinned and then shrugged. "As long as we take it to go. I'm not eating in this getup."

That worked. They had a typical place they always grabbed food from that was close to Darcy's small apartment. They couldn't go to Clint's place. There were a few of the most rabid fans who knew where he lived, and seeing a girl with a Hawkeye backpack going into the building with a strange man would catch their attention. Those fans might realize he was using disguises, and it would make it that much more difficult for him to stay private.

Clint was already pulling out his cell phone to call their order in. He didn't have to ask what she wanted, because they had always ordered the same thing when expecting a night of marathon sex.

They rode the elevator up to the cover building, and exited with a crowd of others heading home for the day. The subway was close by, and they hopped on it for a relatively short trip. The restaurant was two buildings away from Darcy's apartment, so they popped in there to pick up their order. Darcy wasn't very hungry at this point. She was just looking forward to some good, relaxing sex. Things had been tense lately, with the possible Loki issue, and she needed to relax. As she had told Coulson, the battery operated boyfriend just wasn't cutting it anymore.

Clint wasn't giving off any vibes as he followed her to her apartment. He was frustrating like that. Almost as self contained as Coulson when he wanted to be. It had been an absolute shock to her when he had first expressed an interest. She hadn't felt anything from him, and she'd honestly been stunned that he did have an interest in her. There were far prettier girls he could have had his pick of from amongst the fans, so she couldn't understand why he'd chosen her.

Once safely inside her apartment, Clint pulled the fake beard and hair off, and pulled the hood off his head. He took a few seconds to scratch his head, and then his face where the beard had rested. Then he looked at Darcy.

"Food?" he asked roughly.

Now the vibes were rolling. That, along with the smoky eyes, hit Darcy low in the stomach. Oh yeah.

"It can be heated up later," she suggested archly.

Barton moved fast when he wanted to. He was in front of her in seconds, hands seizing her upper arms and propelling her back toward the sofa. Darcy's breath hitched in her throat. She'd missed the air of danger he brought with him. The restrained violence that suddenly and inappropriately reminded her of Luke. She shook her head to clear those thoughts, because now was not the time to be thinking of someone who had turned her down.

She exhaled loudly when she hit the sofa with the back of her legs. Clint only grinned and pushed her down into the cushions, following to hover over her. His knees moved in between her legs, spreading her so he could settle between them. He was still gripping her arms so tightly she would have bruises.

"Ease off, Barton." Her voice was strained.

"Do you really want me to?" he growled, leaning down to nip at her neck. Oh no. Don't ease off.

She must have said it aloud, because he replied with a "Damn straight," and rocked forward, pressing the bulge in his jeans against her, hard. Darcy wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him tighter to her, grinding back for all she was worth. He was wearing jeans, while she still wore her office pants, and the advantage was all his. The friction of the rough denim was going to blow her mind. She tilted her pelvis to get a better angle, hips swiveling, moving her just right, and…Wow! She shuddered, drawing deep gasping breaths as her body clenched and released.

Barton lifted his head with a smug smile. "Yeah…I'm that good."

"Fuck you," she gasped out faintly, body still thrumming.

"That's the idea, sweetheart." He lowered his mouth to her lips, swallowing her pants as he continued to rock against her. The man had enviable self control. Darcy had learned that while they had been…whatever it was that they'd been doing. It had never really qualified as dating.

He was still holding her arms, and Darcy wanted them free. There were some decidedly dirty things she wanted to do to him that she couldn't do with her arms held flat against the sofa cushions. He had the upper hand right now, and while it had been the normal while they had been together, it wasn't that way anymore.

She nipped his bottom lip, and used her heel to kick the back of his thigh. Clint groaned, and pulled his mouth from hers. "What?"

"Let go of my arms, you ass," she breathed.

He thought about it for a minute, and then sat back on his heels, releasing her arms. Darcy sat up and tugged his hoodie up over his head, exposing his torso. She ran appreciative hands over his well muscled arms, up the shoulders, and down to squeeze his pecs.

"Like your pecs, Barton," she whispered.

His amused eyes dropped to her chest. "I like yours more."

Darcy smacked his bare shoulder. "God! You have the cheesiest lines!"

He nodded in agreement. "I know. But I don't really have to work on it, since you're a sure thing."

She smacked him again. "Lose the pants, Barton. A little rubbing through clothes isn't what I was looking forward to tonight."

He hopped easily to his feet, quickly shucking out of his pants. "But you were looking forward to tonight?"

Darcy sighed in appreciation. The man was cut, and she had a great appreciation for fine male bodies. If she could only get him to keep his mouth shut…

"Lose the clothes, Lewis. I'm not wearing anything, you'll notice."

Her eyes trailed leisurely down his body. This was what she missed being with fanboys all the time. Bodies that were honed by action. Most of the fanboys were a little soft. Or a lot.

"Like the rest of your body, Barton," she called, sitting up.

He smirked. "I like yours too. But I'd like to see it. Lose the clothes."

Darcy tugged her shirt off, and then her bra, not missing the slight glazing of Barton's eyes when the girls were exposed. She couldn't resist spinning the bra around on her finger and tossing it onto Barton's head. The cups fell on either side, giving him a Princess Leia look.

"God I wish the fans could see you like this," she mused.

He didn't miss a beat. "I'd just tell them that it's new headgear."

Darcy rolled to her feet. "They'd believe you." She spun on her heel and began inching her pants down, shaking her ass in invitation as she did so. Barton's groan was music to her ears. Yeah, she had the power right now. She continued to shimmy out of her pants, and finally stepped out of them, kicking her shoes off as she did so.

The rush of air warned her before Clint's rock hard body pressed against her back. His arms slid around her waist, and his rough, callused hands cupped her. Darcy sighed and leaned back against him as he thumbed her nipples.

"You feel so hard," she breathed, bumping her butt back against that steely part of him that she really wanted inside her.

"You feel so soft," he countered, finally saying something that wasn't totally cheesy. His breathing sped up as he leaned down to nip at her jaw.

"Don't you dare leave marks," she warned breathlessly. God his hands were like pure magic on her chest. He knew just the right amount of pressure to use. She rewarded him with another shimmy of her bare ass against his overheated flesh.

Barton's heated exhale was a scorching furnace against her neck. "Naughty, Lewis. Very naughty."

She grinned. "Just trying to distract you from marking me, Barton. How about I turn around now, and we have some fun?"

"I won't argue with that." His voice was rough, strained, and Darcy felt a mad elation that she had caused it. She turned slowly, shivering a little as his work-roughened fingers traveled along her skin with her turn. They came to rest in the middle of her back when she stopped, hands on his chest. He was staring down at her, no longer smug, eyes glazed a little.

"Hi there," she greeted softly. "Do you follow all of your female fans home to ravish them?"

"Only the ones that can keep their mouths shut about it later," he answered. "Let's take this to the bedroom. I'm getting a little too old to be having wild monkey sex on a sofa."

Darcy opened her right hand to show him what she'd salvaged from her pants' pocket. "Let's not forget this."

She shrieked as he swatted her ass, hard, and flung the Iron Man condom package away with his other hand. "Ouch dammit, Barton. That hurt!"

His eyes narrowed. "I told you I'm not using those. His face is on it, Lewis." He shook his head and pushed her away. "Bedroom, Lewis. Now."

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat as she headed for the bedroom. He wouldn't be far behind, she knew, so she hurried to pull back the sheets and flop onto the center of the bed on her back. Her happy place was tingling in anticipation.

"C'mon Barton!" she called impatiently, eyes on the ceiling. How long did it take?

A noise at the doorway drew her eyes there. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, knee bent and one foot braced against the door frame. It was a hell of a visual, since he wasn't wearing any clothes, and Darcy took a moment to enjoy the sight. He had found his own condoms, she noted absently.

"You gonna stand there and stare, or are you gonna come here and do something?" she challenged, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back in a stretch.

The strangled noise from Barton's mouth made her day. Darcy grinned as his foot came down with a thump and he stalked toward the bed. She'd seen that same purposeful stride on TV, when he was being a superhero, but it was fucking hot when he did it naked.

"Sometime this year, Clint."

The bed dipped under his knees, and the archer moved over her. He stared down at her, and then offered a smug smile. "So, fangirl…you're scoring the superhero right now. How's that make you feel?"

Darcy frowned. He wasn't touching any part of her body, and that was frustrating. "Impatient," she answered honestly. Her legs rose to circle his waist and pull him down with a surprised 'umfh.' He was heavy, pressing the air out of her until he managed to prop himself up with his arms.

"Aggressive fangirl," he corrected himself.

"Ohmigod Barton will you shut up?"

He laughed, and then swallowed her follow-up protest with his mouth. Um…yeah. And when his mouth trailed away from hers and made a beeline for the girls…sigh. Darcy slid her arms around the muscled torso, and let them wander down his back to his ass. It was a well-muscled ass, and she enjoyed getting her hands on it. Fanboys usually had doughy butts. Ugh. Why was she still thinking of fanboys?

"You gotta do better, Barton. I'm still making comparisons to the fanboys."

He muttered something unintelligible, then practically attacked her chest. Thoughts of fanboys went right out of her head when he sucked hard. Darcy's heels slammed into the bed and pushed her back off the mattress.

"Ungh…" she managed to say, eyes almost crossing in bliss.

Clint muttered something else with his mouth full, then drew back, releasing her with a loud pop. "Still thinking of fanboys?"

Darcy couldn't answer.

"Thought not. Hold tight, Darce. This is gonna be energetic."

Finally, she thought. Then for a long time, she didn't think anything at all except for 'Fuck, Clint!'

* * *

><p>The man had stamina, Darcy had to give him that. He was very cranky when he realized they had burned through the two condoms he'd tucked into his jeans, and the only way round three was going to happen was if he suited up with an Iron Man condom. He looked like he was going to call it quits, but when Darcy slithered down his stomach and gave him one hell of a blowjob, Clint's eyes glazed over. He didn't even manage to croak a protest when she stopped sucking him like a lollipop, and rolled the Iron Man condom on.<p>

After round three, they reheated their takeout and wolfed it down. Darcy was surprised that Clint was even still standing, but he was a well trained superhero and everything. Still, by the time she was finished with her food, she noticed his head drooping.

"Wore ya out," she called softly.

"Fuck you," Barton returned softly, eyes barely open. He was beginning to list to one side.

Darcy laughed. "You did, Barton."

He flipped her off, took a long swig from a bottle of water to clear the food taste from his mouth, then managed to pry one eye the whole way open. "I'm done," he announced.

"I see that," she sauced. "Tony wore you out?"

"You better shut up about that, or I'll spank you. I'm going to sleep." He didn't even wait for her response, just headed for the bedroom. Darcy bit back a smile and followed. She felt pretty wore out too, but there was no way she would admit that. She was about 15 years his junior and she didn't like to acknowledge that he was in far better shape. Of course, he had to be to keep from getting killed, but still…

She had to shove at him to make room for her on the bed. For some reason, Clint slept all sprawled out like a cat, taking up more space than should have been possible. He had never talked about why he did it, but she'd overheard his nightmare induced ramblings often enough to know that something awful had happened when he'd been captured on a mission. The scars around his wrists and ankles gave her an idea why he liked to feel unrestrained and clear while sleeping, so Darcy made sure to give him plenty of room. The one time she'd tried to wrap her arms around him while he was sleeping had ended with her on the floor, nursing a black eye. Clint had been very upset that he'd hurt her, and had quietly suggested that she not try to get too close while he slept.

Funny thing was, he sometimes flopped over on his side and spooned her, caging her in with his arms and legs. Apparently it was okay if he was the one doing the restraining.

Morning came way too soon, and they rose groggily to eat a hasty breakfast and shower. Darcy had to laugh when it took Clint longer in the bathroom than her, but he was putting his disguise back on. He yelled loudly and called her a bitch when he found the regular condoms in the bathroom closet. It was probably a good thing he hadn't checked the nightstand drawer very closely, since she knew there were at least two regular condoms in it.

He finally emerged, looking really grumpy with the fake hair and beard secured in place. "I didn't join to be a star, you know," he complained. "It sucks that I have to sneak around like this."

Darcy patted his arm. "Yeah. But your job is saving the world and that's gotta be worth it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Darcy walked with him down to the street. The sky was just beginning to lighten with dawn, and the city was mostly silent. She'd probably pay for having only two hours of sleep, but it was worth it, as always. It was a shame that there was nothing more than friendship and good sex between them. He was a good guy.

She opened her mouth to say goodbye, and Clint surprised her by pulling her forward for a thorough kiss.

"What was that for?" she asked after he released her. He looked…worried.

"Just because," he answered. "Just be careful, Darce. My gut has been screaming for days, telling me that something big is brewing."

She didn't like that, not at all. Clint's gut was more accurate than their intel. "Any clues on what it is?"

He shook his head, but his eyes said that he had a pretty good idea. "No. Just be careful." He tapped her nose. "See ya, fangirl. Thanks for the good night."

"Back at ya," she replied. "Get outta here, arrow boy."

He shook his head. "I'm not young enough to be called a boy."

Darcy wrinkled her nose. "Not physically, no." She dodged the swat he aimed at her backside, and opened the door to her apartment building. "Be careful yourself, junkie."

Clint rolled his eyes and strolled away.

Neither of them saw the tall, lean figure lurking in a doorway across the street, watching with murderous eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: violence. Proceed at your own risk.

Wow…sorry everyone. I'm really writing dark stuff lately, in both stories! This is a short one.

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><p>Loki amused himself for several days after meeting the mortal girl by causing little spots of trouble. Nothing major, but just enough to pull the heroes out in groups of two or three so he could observe and assess their abilities and fighting skills. He had to admit to himself that he found the Hulk impressive, but still less than a challenge. Had the Hulk been able to utilize intellect along with his brute force, he might have been a formidable opponent, but Loki knew he could easily outwit the beast.<p>

Captain America had brains to go with his super strength, but that strength was no match for a Jotun, and his mind was certainly no match for Loki's own. He would bear watching, but posed no real threat.

The archer and female assassin he dismissed out of hand. Neither had super strength or extraordinary abilities. A magical shield would guard him from their projectile weapons, and the woman would be severely outmatched if she tried to take him on physically. He had not seen the archer fight without his weapon, but he was only a regular mortal.

The playboy billionaire playing hero in his iron suit was troubling. Every time Loki saw Iron Man fight, he learned of a new ability the suit possessed. That worried him less than the mind beneath the mask. The man was very intelligent and shrewd in business, and he seemed to have translated that savvy into his fighting skills. He might turn out to be a worthy opponent. Loki was actually looking forward to matching wits with the man.

His not-brother was the biggest problem. As long as Thor had Mjolnir, he could match and possibly best Loki. But he had to have a weakness and Loki would find it. He remembered that his not-brother had become enamored of a mortal woman, and if he had not grown bored of her yet, she might prove to be Thor's undoing.

He was feeling very confident in himself until he saw all the heroes unite to take down a strong foe that he had not been the originator of. That battle was a bucket of cold water to his hubris. If they united, they would defeat him in a frontal assault. He needed to utilize his greatest skills as a trickster and mischief maker to divide and demoralize them.

The woman would be the easiest, he thought. Thanks to Darcy, he knew that a fan had attempted to kidnap the Widow. Not that the fan had stood a chance, but the fact that he tried it in the woman's private home had shaken them all. He wondered what their reaction would be when the Widow was attacked by someone who could hurt her.

He was bored and restless. That was never a good combination for Loki. He would have been amusing himself with the Widow, but she was entertaining herself with another super powered being (not an Avenger) and he didn't feel like putting that much effort into hurting her. He could wait. Time was one thing he had an abundance of.

Looking around at the crowd of fans (he currently didn't appear anything like himself as a precaution from being prematurely seen), Loki realized how he could pass some time while he waited. The luscious mortal girl would believe anything he told her, so he would come up with an excuse as to why he could suddenly dally with her. It would be a pleasant way to kill some time.

He placed himself in a prime location to see her emerging from the building she worked in. He'd located the building the day after he'd met her by watching for her to arrive. He could have expended magic to find it, but why waste magic when he could do it normally?

He was actually beginning to look forward to the time he would spend with the girl. Her ripe curves would feel sinfully delicious beneath him, and he would enjoy the cries of pleasure he brought to her. She would worship him, first with her body, and then with her entire spirit.

He knew what time her shift ended, based on her comments when they'd first met, so he began watching her building very closely at that time. When he spotted her emerging from the building, he began to shift back to his normal self, but stopped when he saw her walking with someone. The man at her side was a contradiction. He looked like a junkie, or some really eccentric fan, but he walked like a warrior, light on his feet, eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

Loki followed out of curiosity, shifting his appearance several times so that the warrior would not become aware of him. He might suspect that he was being followed, but he wouldn't be able to spot who was following him. What the man was doing with Darcy was a complete mystery until they entered a building together, one that was for communal housing. Ah…neighbors.

He had nothing better to do, so he settled in at a hole in the wall 24 hour coffee shop across the street, sipping at some truly horrendous beverage. He had no need to sleep right now, and preferred not to, since it left him vulnerable. Plus, he was too busy creating diversions for his not-brother's band of warriors. They could track magical energy, he had discovered, but only after the fact, so he created little pockets of magical disturbance all over the city. They were dormant until activated, so at random intervals, he would flick out with his mind and set one off. He was sure it was driving people nuts.

Dawn was threatening when Darcy emerged from the building where she apparently lived. Loki frowned when he saw the same man, the warrior, with her. When the man pulled her forward into a kiss, Loki saw red. He understood suddenly that the man was not a neighbor, and…he had taken something Loki wanted. The luscious mortal was his. HIS! How dare this mortal man lay his hands on her?

The anger built until it needed an outlet. Loki ignored the screams of surprise behind him as electrical outlets began sparking and glass display cases imploded. His hands were fisted so tightly that he was leaving fingernail punctures in his palm.

Recklessly, he cast part of himself as a bird perching on a wire above the heads of the parting lovers to overhear what nonsense they would promise each other.

"What was that for?" Darcy asked.

"Just because," he answered. "Just be careful, Darce. My gut has been screaming for days, telling me that something big is brewing."

"Any clues on what it is?"

"No. Just be careful."

"Sir, are you all right?" A voice intruded and Loki lost his grip on the phantom bird, missing the rest of what was being said. He waved a quick reassurance at the coffee shop employee and allowed the red to fade from his vision.

So…the man was…what was the Midgardian phrase he had heard…a 'friend with benefits'. He had witnessed affection between the two, but nothing else. The man had been a convenient outlet for the repressed need he had sensed in Darcy the other day. Still…it could not be allowed. Loki had already claimed the woman as his, even if he had not expressed that to anyone yet, including her. He did not share. Thor could attest to that from childhood. Loki did not like it when others tried to play with his toys.

The foolish mortal man was walking away, senses blunted from the pleasures of the night before. He had no idea how close 'something big' was. He would be an easy mark.

Loki threw several bills at the coffee shop employee and rose to his feet. As he walked out the door, he shifted to a form that was completely nondescript and plain. No one would be able to remember or describe him as other than plain. Forgettable. He didn't want anyone to notice him. Not yet.

He tailed the mortal man for quite some time, cat-quiet as he stalked behind the man through the early morning streets. There were few other mortals awake and on the streets at this time, although it was hardly deserted. No one looked at anyone else. They all went about their own business, which Loki appreciated. They had their uses, as had the primitives who'd first nursed him back to health.

The man he followed seemed to have no purpose, wandering aimlessly. He was oblivious to the danger stalking behind him, occasionally staring up at the sky and whistling or humming. Loki could not fathom what interest he could hold for the vibrant Darcy, since the man seemed very simple. It must be the body, which was nicely honed under the loose clothing, because it certainly could not be the simplistic mind.

When the man stopped walking and abruptly turned to face him, Loki froze, taken by surprise.

"Who are you and why are you following me?" the man demanded.

Too late, Loki realized that he had followed the man around in several circles. This mortal was cleverer than he had realized.

He straightened, allowing his body to take on its true height while keeping its fake face. "I am the 'something big' you've been worried about, mortal," he hissed.

Lightning quick, the man drew a weapon from behind his back. It was one of the forced projectile weapons called a gun. "Loki," he said flatly.

Red filled Loki's vision, and he felt himself shifting to his Jotun form. "How do you know who I am?" he hissed.

The man said nothing and did not flinch at the sight of a blue skinned, red-eyed monster. He kept his weapon trained on Loki. A true warrior. Loki respected that.

"No answer? I will find out without your confession. It seems a pity to waste such obvious warrior skills. Care to join me?"

"Not a chance," the man assured. "What do you want with me?"

So fool of bravado, but Loki could taste the fear underneath. The mortal knew he was no match for the God of Mischief.

"You should learn not to play with other people's toys," he warned, allowing a throwing dagger to appear in his hand.

Revelation lit the mortal's eyes too late. Loki lunged forward, faster than the mortal could react, needing the physical contact, and drove the dagger home with a snarl. The gun went off somewhere behind his head, and he ripped it from the man's hands. Impossibly, the mortal was still trying to fight, even with a dagger buried in his abdomen. But mortal bodies were fragile things, and he was slowing.

"I admire your spirit," Loki told him, blue hands clasped around the mortal's head. "But you chose poorly."

Tired of the game, he sent a strong pulse of magic into the man's brain, effectively shutting his body down. The wound would do the rest. Loki allowed the man to drop from his grasp, and straightened, brushing absently at the blood that had splattered on his clothes. It disappeared as his fingers touched it. Loki sniffed down at the dying mortal, resumed a human form, and then sent himself to the developing fancrowd outside of the Avengers' Headquarters. Competition removed.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter. I tried to resolve it with a cut to Darcy's POV but it just didn't work.

This was a really tough chapter to write, for personal reasons. To all who have sat in that emergency room waiting area – not knowing, waiting…

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><p>Darcy walked into sheer chaos. S.H.I.E.L.D agents, high level agents and not the grunts she worked with, were mobilizing for action. The call was issued for the Avengers to assemble, and then retracted. There was a cluster of people waiting at her desk, and no one seemed to know what was going on.<p>

For once, she wasn't pissed off by seeing Tony Stark at her desk, because Thor stood beside him, but Darcy didn't get there. Someone grabbed her by the neck from behind and slammed her into the nearest wall – hard. Her vision swam and she tried to remember to breathe, but her attacker slammed her again.

"What did you do?" The hiss from behind her was equal parts enraged and anguished. The Widow had targeted her for some unknown reason. Darcy looked for help. Stark wasn't even smiling like she thought he would be. He stood with his arms crossed, face devoid of expression. And Thor…wasn't doing anything. He stared with a regretful look, but he didn't intervene, and Darcy was crushed.

"Natasha?" she gasped, breath rushing back into her lungs. "What?"

The Widow had a crushing grip on the back of her neck, and she twisted Darcy's arm up behind her with her other hand. "Tell me what you did, you stupid little whore!"

Why wasn't Thor doing anything? He was her friend. Where were Clint and Steve?

She tasted blood with the next slam against the wall. "Natasha please."

The Widow spun her around and slammed her back into the wall. Everything thing went black for a moment and then swam back into focus. Darcy tasted more blood and realized dimly that she'd bitten right through her lip.

"I don't know why you're mad," she said weakly.

Natasha's face was twisted in rage and streaked with tears. "You did this, you dumb bitch! You and your fanboy playthings…" She lifted one fist threateningly, and Darcy closed her eyes. Waiting for it. Tensing up in anticipation of the pain

The blow never fell, and Darcy suddenly slid down the wall – free. She pried her eyes open to see Captain America standing over her in uniform, covered in blood. He didn't seem to be wounded, but she had never seen the boyish Steve Rogers look so grim. He had one arm around the Widow, holding her away from Darcy.

"What…what happened to you?" she gasped out. Everything hurt, and her vision swam in and out of focus.

Rogers handed Natasha off to Coulson, who stood right behind him, also covered in blood. Coulson's expression was very bleak as he steered the Widow away from Darcy, but he did not seem to be wounded either.

Darcy tried to stand, but decided against it. She'd never had the Widow's considerable skills turned against her before and she never wanted to experience it again. It felt like something was broken inside. There was a biting pain in her shoulder and ribs. Something must be terribly wrong, because neither Thor nor Rogers offered to help her up. Since both men were gentlemen, it was unlike them. She was being treated like…a villain. A criminal.

"Please," she asked quietly, wiping blood from her mouth. "Please tell me what everyone thinks I did."

Rogers looked down at her, but then seemed to see the blood that covered his uniform. He opened his mouth to say something, snapped it shut without uttering a sound, and then spun on his heel to follow Coulson and the Widow.

Stark unfolded himself from the outside wall of her cubicle and walked toward her. He completely surprised her when he knelt down and offered a tissue. Darcy took it and held it to her mouth. It was making her very uncomfortable to have a silent Tony Stark in front of her. The grim lines of his face were starting to scare her. And why was Thor just standing there? Not saying anything.

"Clint was with you last night?" Stark finally asked.

"Yes. Why?" No. The blood all over Captain America and Coulson. The Widow's rage and anguish. "Tony no. No. What happened to Clint?" He didn't answer, and Darcy felt the world bottom out under her. "NO! What happened, Tony? Where's Clint?"

"He was attacked. Stabbed." Stark's voice was icy. "He hit his panic button locator before it all went down, but…"

The world went dark again. "Tell me he's okay. He has to be okay." She couldn't breathe. '_My gut has been screaming for days_,' Clint had said.

"He's alive, for now," Stark said finally. "Nearly bled out before Cap and Coulson got to him. That's bad enough, but something else happened to him at the same time. It's put him in a bad way, Darcy."

It was very hard to squeeze any words out through her suddenly constricted throat. "He said his gut had been screaming for days. He said something big was brewing." She pushed herself up, back braced against the wall, until she was standing. Swaying and about to vomit, but standing.

"Where is he?"

Stark rose as well. "At the hospital. I'll take you there." He swallowed heavily. "Tell me that none of your fanboy conquests would do this."

What? "Of course not," Darcy said, hoping she wasn't about to puke all over him. "Why would you think that?"

"The knife he was stabbed with," Stark explained. "It was some kind of outlandishly weird thing, like a supervillain knife. So we figured it was a fanboy that did it."

Darcy couldn't understand the logic. "Why would you jump right to fanboys? Maybe it was a bad guy, you know?"

Stark shook his head. "We have an eyewitness who claims that the guy that did it was in a blue body suit. Of course, our eyewitness is 90 years old and legally blind, but it just seemed like something a jealous fanboy would do. Plus…it happened when he was leaving your place. Maybe a jealous fanboy followed you, and…"

"Jealous of what, Tony?" she cried in frustration, voice breaking and tears starting. "There's not a single one of them that ever wanted to spend more time with me, so how do you think it's possible that one of them would be jealous enough to hurt Clint?" Then she couldn't talk because she was too busy trying to breathe through the ragged sobs that wrenched her body.

And still, Thor said nothing.

Darcy felt like she'd been squeezed and wrung out. She'd cried until she puked, and then cried some more. Then she just sat on a chair in the emergency room waiting area, drained. Stark hadn't ceased pacing since they had arrived two hours ago, waiting on news about Clint. Thor had accompanied them, but still hadn't said a word. He stood in silent vigil, staring out a window.

The sun was shining. It seemed wrong that the sun was shining on such a dark day.

Not even the famous Tony Stark could cajole information from the waiting area staff. 'Mr. Barton was in surgery' was the only update they could get. Even after several half-hearted threats. Tony finally gave up, and sat down beside Darcy. She couldn't find the energy to have her usual disdain of him and just stared at him numbly, tissue clenched in her hand.

"So…why Clint but not me?"

It was strangely familiar enough (trust Tony Stark to fish for an ego stroke when one of his teammates might be dying), that Darcy barked out a sardonic laugh.

"You're too much, Stark. Clint because he's appreciative of the arrangement we have. He doesn't act like I should be down on my knees in eternal appreciation that he was generous enough to have sex with me. You totally act like you're giving alms to the poor when you score some bimbo."

Stark shrugged. "I'm a billionaire superhero. They should be grateful that I'm having sex with them."

Darcy nodded. "And that's why Clint and not you." She swallowed past the constriction in her throat. "I can't take this…waiting and not knowing."

Thor finally spoke. "Sometimes, not knowing is better than having your fears confirmed." He turned away from the window to look at them. Darcy wanted to hug him because he appeared so sad. For a moment, it seemed as if he would say something else, but then he turned back to the window.

He said nothing else, though both Darcy and Stark prompted him.

Rogers arrived in the third hour with Natasha and Bruce Banner in tow. Natasha was still glaring death at Darcy and might have continued to do so but, after speaking very quietly to Steve Rogers, Thor took Natasha by the arm and pulled her away from the others. Darcy really wanted to hear that conversation, but she didn't want to get too close to the Widow. Had it not been for the mega pain-killers (leftover from an unexpected Hulk appearance in the Darcy Zone) she had popped, her body would be screaming in pain from earlier. As it was, her lip was throbbing where she had bitten through it.

She watched Natasha and Thor from the corner of her eye. The Widow first seemed enraged, gesturing and snarling angrily. Then, something that Thor said caused a stricken expression to flood her face, and she cast a guilty look at Darcy. But she looked back to Thor and allowed him to finish what he was saying. Then she nodded softly and moved away from the blond god.

Thor looked so broken. Not even when he'd been a mortal and had been slammed by the Destroyer robot had he appeared beaten, but he did now. After Natasha walked away, he turned back to the window, shoulders slumped and head bowed. What was wrong with Thor?

Finally, in the fourth hour, a doctor came out to update them. It was the moment of truth for those waiting, and they all rose to their feet uneasily.

"Good afternoon. I'm Doctor Phillips. Mr. Barton made it through surgery. He lost a lot of blood, but the knife missed major organs. If this were a normal situation, I would say with absolute certainty that he will be fine and fully recover. But, given his line of work, this wound is not normal. Something else happened to him, we have no idea what it was, and we have no idea how to treat it." The man frowned. "If you have any ideas…"

Stark was all over it. "I need to get some readings…"

Thor stepped forward, still appearing so down, dejected…broken. "It is magic. A dark magic that eats at the soul. It will kill Clint Barton unless it is counteracted, or drawn away from him."

All eyes turned to the blond God of Thunder. "You know his attacker," Steve Rogers finally ventured. "I saw it in your face when I described the knife."

"I do," Thor confirmed. "I may be able to assist in the recovery of our comrade. But it will leave me vulnerable for several days if successful. You should notify Director Fury that I will be unavailable." He turned and beckoned to Darcy, pulling her away from the others when she moved to his side. He placed a large hand on her shoulder and bent over to place his mouth near her ear. "Assure Jane that I will recover. She will be angry with me."

Darcy nodded. "Thor…who was it?"

He smiled sadly as he straightened. "An attacker in a blue body suit? A knife with Asgardian runes of power? A teammate of mine targeted? I would say that my brother has arrived in New York City."

Loki. Darcy shivered at the chill of dread that moved through her. All accounts of the alleged sightings of Thor's brother indicated that he was intense, quite possibly insane, and very super-villain-ish. Was this the 'something big' Clint had spoken of?

"He's targeting the Avengers?"

Thor nodded quietly. "There have been disturbances all over the city in the past few days. Nothing so big as to cause panic, but large enough to require one or two Avengers to be present. Overnight, there were dozens of small magical disturbances that appeared and disappeared before they could be traced. He is here, and by now, he knows that he cannot defeat all of us. He will seek to eliminate the team one by one."

"Is it smart to take yourself out of action?" Darcy had to ask it. Clint would not want Thor to make the team vulnerable just to save him.

"I will not have the death of Clint Barton weighing down my soul," Thor stated resolutely. "My brother was driven mad by the revelation of his true origins. I do not know what drove him to hate me, and I do not know how he survived the fall from the Bifrost, but he is here. He will strike against those closest to me. I fear for Jane's safety. I fear for all of us, but I will not allow a teammate to perish when I could prevent his death."

He spun on his heel and walked briskly over to the doctor. "Take me to Clint Barton."

Then it was time for more pacing, more worrying. Stark and Rogers got into a heated debate about who should notify Fury that Thor was doing something ridiculously heroic that would result in him being out of commission for days. They were embarrassing themselves and the whole team so Darcy took action. She called Coulson.

"Hey Phil. Heads up to you and the angry One-Eye. Thor will be out of commission for a few days. He had to expose himself-"

"He did what!" Coulson's high pitched yelp hurt her ears, and Darcy held the phone away from her head. Clint would laugh like crazy when she told him this story. That thought made her stomach clench painfully. If she got to tell him the story.

"Do you really think Thor would literally expose himself?" she chided. "If you would let me finish…"

Coulson sounded like he was having trouble breathing. "Yes please."

"Thor is pretty sure that Clint met his little brother, and was attacked with dark magic. He said it would kill Clint unless it was drained, so Thor went to absorb it, I guess."

She could hear Coulson's frown through the phone. "Not exactly a smart move."

"But the only one he could live with."

"True. I hope this doesn't come back to haunt us. If Lo…Thor's brother knows how his brother would react, this may have been a trap to get to Thor."

Darcy had thought of that. "I'm hoping that the crazy brother doesn't think that far ahead." She caught sight of the doctor heading their way. "Gotta go, Phil. Doctor is on his way with an update."

"Keep me posted," Coulson said shortly, and hung up.

Darcy pocketed the phone and stood along with the other Avengers to await the doctor. The man still looked grim, but not as much as he had before.

"Thor…did something…and now Mr. Barton is in a regular state of unconsciousness."

The sighs of relief were almost overwhelming, but the doctor wasn't done. He rubbed the bridge of his nose uneasily.

"Thor is now unconscious, and I don't even know where to start with vital signs. Do you have a regular doctor who deals with him?"

Tony nodded. "We do. I'll give Dr. Wilke a call. He's sort of our on-call doctor for all the…weird stuff."

Dr. Phillips breathed a noticeable sigh of relief. "That would make me feel very relieved. I have no problems continuing to see Mr. Barton. His condition is now a normal one."

"Can we see him?" Natasha asked in a shaky voice.

The doctor looked at them nervously. "Normally I would say not yet, but…I think one person at a time could visit. He's not conscious yet, and I don't know when that may change. The…whatever it was…was very trying to his system."

Natasha was moving forward to follow the doctor, but then turned to look guiltily at Darcy. "I'm…you should go to him first."

Darcy shook her head. "No Natasha. You two are partners. Clint and I are just friends."

One eyebrow arched dangerously, but Natasha didn't argue. She took a few steps, and then turned back to Darcy. "I'm sorry…you know. For getting rough with you."

Darcy swallowed the first five things she wanted to say, and smiled wanly. "I understand. It's no big deal." She watched Natasha stalk after the doctor.

"That was very mature of you," Steve Rogers said softly from behind her.

Darcy didn't look at him. "Yeah, I'm chock full of surprises like that. Mainly though, I wanted to avoid another beating."

Rogers walked around her, and seemed to see her for the first time. He took in the swollen and punctured lip, and the careful way Darcy stood. Sudden sympathy flooded his boyish face, and he reached out toward her face. Darcy pulled her head away, irrationally angry.

"I'm fine, okay?"

But she wasn't fine. She wanted to scream, or hit something.

"Natasha…she just kind of lost it," Rogers offered lamely. He dropped his hand, but continued to stare down at her.

"Yeah, I got that." She turned away from him, from all of them. The image of Stark and Thor just watching while Natasha went nuts on her was like…like a knife in the stomach. She could understand Tony not doing anything, but Thor's inaction really hurt her. She could handle the assholes who busted on her dating habits. They meant nothing to her. She could handle Stark who really just pissed her off. But Thor just watching…Clint getting stabbed…it was too much. She felt right on the edge of breaking.

She walked away from the others and sat down near the windows. Outside, in the sunlight, normal people went about their business like normal people could. She envied them sometimes. Her life hadn't been normal since Thor fell from the sky and now she didn't fit anywhere. Not with the Avengers, because she would never be a hero type. Not with S.H.I.E.L.D, because she wasn't really an agent. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and S.H.I.E.L.D couldn't let her run free with the knowledge she had. And because of all of that, she didn't, couldn't, fit with regular people anymore. Sometimes, like now, her whole situation left her feeling so sorry for herself it was pathetic. And that's when it was time for a new fanboy of the month. Because at least that feeling of being worshipped made her feel worthwhile for a little.

Tears stung her eyes. She was such a douche. Clint had been stabbed, and she was feeling sorry for herself. Darcy didn't much like what that said about her character.

She was still lost in her sad contemplation of the outside world when a hand fell softly on her shoulder. Darcy looked up and not-quite flinched when she met Natasha's gaze. The Widow didn't miss that reaction, and she winced.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I just…"

"I'm fine," Darcy replied shortly. It was good to know where she stood with the Avengers. An annoyance. A security risk. Tony and Thor had only watched her get slammed. Rogers had come to her rescue at least, but that still wasn't enough to make up for Thor's apparent apathy.

Natasha removed her hand when Darcy looked at it pointedly, and took a few steps back. "You can go see him. He's not awake or anything. But I think he'd like it if you were there."

Darcy stood without saying anything, and followed the waiting nurse.

Not only was she a douche, but apparently a coward too. At the doorway to Clint's room, Darcy paused. She was scared. She didn't want to see Clint hurt. Not when she'd spent the night tangling in the sheets with him.

"Miss…?" the nurse asked.

Darcy took a few deep breaths that were more like hyperventilating. "Give me a minute." She squeezed her eyes shut, took two deeper, shuddering breaths, and then opened her eyes and walked into the room.

Clint was almost as white as the bed sheets and it made Darcy's heart hurt to see him so still. He was usually so alive. But now, he was limp and lifeless, face an expressionless mask. Darcy was used to seeing him in dark colors, usually black, but now he was dressed in light blue hospital pajamas. The light color of the hospital shirt only emphasized his paleness.

She reached down and took his hand. His skin was slightly cool to touch. Only the steady beat of the heart monitor reassured her that he was alive. But the rough, callused palms felt familiar, and Darcy bowed her head, resting it on their conjoined hands.

She didn't know she was crying again until the scalding hot tears tracked across the back of her hand. Then she was sobbing, body clenching agonizingly tight with each indrawn breath. It was too real, seeing him lying there with tubes coming out of his nose, more tubes attached to his arm, and lying so still.

He would bitch like crazy when he woke up and saw what he was wearing. Then he would be embarrassed because someone had dressed him in those clothes while he was unconscious. Then he would drop into character and flirt shamelessly with any female that came into the room. Darcy wanted to move past the waiting part, the stillness, to the back-to-life part. She was never very good at waiting.

When her sobs abated a little, Darcy raised her head, wiping her eyes with her free hand, and then raising a shoulder to scrub at her nose. "Hey archer boy," she greeted softly, in a scratchy voice. "You were right when you thought something was brewing. I'm so sorry it came for you first." She squeezed his limp hand, more for the reassurance it gave to her. "Natasha thought it was one of my fanboys that did it and slammed me around a little. I have a new sympathy for the guys that try to go up against her."

She sniffed loudly. "I'm a douche, Clint. You got stabbed, and I'm feeling sorry for myself because I don't really fit anywhere. It really hurt, you know. Tony and Thor just watched while Natasha slammed me. That Tony didn't step in to help doesn't surprise me, but…I thought Thor was my friend." She wiped her nose on her shoulder again, not caring how gross it was. "He never even asked if I was okay. And I'm not. I bit through my lip, my back hurts really bad, and I think I may have a cracked rib. But I wouldn't admit that to any of them."

She was shaking a little, and tears were welling up in her eyes, thankfully blurring Clint's motionless and helpless form.

"Rogers played the hero this time around. He grabbed Natasha just as she was about to punch me. I just…I want to go home, Clint. I want to go back to my life. It was safe. Predictable, but safe."

The tears escaped and ran down her cheeks to drip on the bed. Her view of Clint became clearer, and she gulped back a loud sob. "I know you're like madly into Natasha, Clint, but she's not a nice person. Of course, you've said the same thing about yourself, but I think you're a lot nicer than her."

She squeezed his hand again, then bent to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Get better soon, okay? Bad times are here, and we'll need all the help we can get. You're one of the few I can trust anymore, and I'd like you back. I'll see ya soon, archer boy."

She fled then. That was the only way to describe it. Her heels beat a staccato rap on the tiled hospital floor as she quick-walked back to the waiting area. The Avengers looked up at her appearance, but Darcy found no welcome in their eyes. She felt so completely isolated.

"Someone else can go see him now," she murmured. "I'm going back to work."

Stark stood, running a hand through his hair. "I'll take you. I don't like visiting hospital bedsides."

Oh hell no. "No thanks," Darcy said briskly. "I want to be alone."

Stark walked toward her. "It's not safe by yourself, Darcy."

"Why not, Tony? I'm by myself most of the time anyhow. Besides, being in the middle of an office full of government agents didn't stop me from getting hurt while one of my so-called friends just watched. I can't be in any more danger out on the streets by myself."

She reveled in the flinch she saw from Natasha, and Stark's guilty expression. "Call me if he wakes up."

The guilty silence that followed her out the door was priceless.

* * *

><p>The remainder of her day at work did not go well. Darcy was grateful for the heavy duty painkillers. They kept the pain at a tolerable level, and blunted the raw emotions she would have been feeling. She desperately needed to not feel anything right now, and passing through the day in a drug induced haze worked for her.<p>

The long walk down the tunnel was challenging, but Darcy relished the pain it caused. She was in a dark place, and just wanted to go home and drown her sorrows with alcohol. Maybe the empty feeling would go away. Not even the bright sunshine, when she hit the streets, could lift her.

It took her several seconds to realize that someone was calling her name. Darcy turned, carefully, to look around, and spotted a welcome sight heading toward her from out of the fan crowd. Damn he looked good.

"Luke," she breathed, staring with hungry eyes.

He stopped several steps away. "Hello Darcy." Oh that voice.

He looked really good, standing casually with hands in the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing slightly different clothing than what they had purchased for him, so Darcy assumed he'd been doing some shopping on his own. He looked more relaxed than he had when she'd first met him, without that dangerous edge.

"Hi," she said finally. "You look really good."

He smiled down at her. "As do you." Then he frowned. "What has happened to you?" He reached out to cup her chin and tilt her head toward the light. Darcy didn't miss the fleeting but very scary expression that flitted across his face.

"It was a helluva day at work," she quipped, trying to lighten his mood.

Luke considered her words very briefly. "So it appears. Can I offer you a distraction?" He smiled. "A pleasurable one?"

"I would love one," Darcy admitted. The day was looking up. Finally. She ignored the feeling of guilt that blossomed in her stomach. She desperately needed this – to feel wanted. Especially after everything that had happened today.

Luke extended his arm gallantly, and Darcy slipped her arm through his. He felt good, and smelled delicious. She leaned into his side, enjoying his warmth. The feeling of his leanly muscled body was a bonus.

"Let us see what we can do to make you feel better."

"Lead the way," Darcy instructed. "Right now, I'm game for almost anything."

Luke's eyes flashed. "Excellent."


	8. Chapter 8

Loki unleashes a monster…

Recommended reading requirements: ice water and a cigarette for after. Just saying….

* * *

><p>After watching Darcy disappear into the building she worked in, the day passed very slowly for Loki. He amused himself by listening to the stories that were being told by the fans around him. They might contain important knowledge to bring about the downfall of the heroes.<p>

Around midday, an excited and dismayed buzz ran through the crowd. Rumor had it that at least one of the heroes had been grievously wounded. There didn't appear to be any details on how it had happened, but one of the heroes was out of commission. Loki tried to quell his pleased grin, since it would be out of place in this crowd. He did not quite succeed.

Later in the day, more rumors drifted through the crowd. It seemed that both the archer and Loki's not-brother were incapacitated. No one seemed to know for how long or what had happened. The fans were almost frantic with worry, and hoping for an official announcement, but no announcements were made.

Loki was wary. He had practically waved his hand and said hello to Thor with all the magical disturbances of the night before. They had used the same tactics in a clash with Svartalfheim, centuries ago. If Thor remembered that…well…Loki liked the idea of his not-brother being nervous. And he wasn't so reckless that he would fall for anything. He would believe that a hero was out of commission when he was the one to put them there. Thor would not lure him in so easily.

He circulated among the worried fans, changing his face almost constantly, whispering rumors of a villainous foe the heroes could not defeat who was looking to eliminate the heroes one by one. His words spread like wildfire through the crowd and began to be shared with the normal denizens of the city. By nightfall, the city should be in a state of high alert, and the heroes would be watching their very vulnerable backs.

Loki loved being the bad guy.

For centuries, he had fought against his darkest impulses. He had suppressed the blackest ideas that came to his mind, and turned and twisted them into something trivial, earning his reputation for mischief. After all, giving in to those impulses was not something a prince of Asgard would do. He had endured the shunning and disapproval that eventually led to being ignored. Many Asgardians believed he was 'acting out' in an attempt to be seen on the same level as Thor.

Everything had changed with the revelation of his true heritage. Those terrible impulses made sense now. He was a monster. He could continue to deny it, and suppress those terrible urges, or he could embrace it. Truly become a monster and teach the people of this realm to fear and obey him. He would no longer live in Thor's shadow. He had become the shadow.

He waited impatiently for the day to pass, causing mischief and strife wherever he strode. It was quite amusing to goad these crude hero worshippers into a fight. They were easy to manipulate and the resulting chaos was food for his hungry black soul. Creating strife and discord was fun. Much more fun than trying to play by rules that restricted the very heart of what he was.

He smoothly evaded the mortals in uniforms as they moved through the crowd, questioning, warning. It was amusing for a time, but then he grew tired of the game and simply encouraged the officers of law to not see him. The continued use of magic so close to the heroes' base of operations was risky, but titillating as well. They were currently too concerned with the well being of two of their own (or so rumor had it) to pay close attention to their front door. It was a game Loki couldn't stop himself from playing. Despite all that had happened, he still had a fondness for wicked games.

Still, by the end of the day, he was looking forward to a different kind of game. One that didn't require as much thought. When he saw Darcy emerge from her place of work, he moved toward her with a purposeful stride, allowing his normal face to emerge. She did not immediately respond when he called to her. He called her name several times before she looked up and met his eyes. Her grim expression altered to a surprised welcome.

"Luke," she greeted softly, eyes lighting up.

"Hello Darcy," he practically purred. It had a profound effect on her. A small flush lit her cheeks and she inhaled deeply.

"Hi," she finally managed to stammer out. "You look really good."

"As do you," he returned automatically, with a smile. Then he frowned, seeing the swollen lip, a darkening bruise on her cheek, and the very careful way she stood and breathed. "What has happened to you?" he demanded, reaching out to tilt her head up. Someone had hurt her. He didn't like when others played with his toys, and he really didn't like when his toys were damaged.

She did not want to talk about it, that much was obvious as her eyes darted to one side. "It was a helluva day at work." She was trying to keep it light so he would not worry, but it was the person who had damaged her that should worry.

She was waiting for a response, so Loki inclined his head. "So it appears. Can I offer you a distraction?" He allowed every wicked thought he was having to surface in his smile. "A pleasurable one?"

She trembled visibly, flush spreading further in her cheeks. "I would love one," she admitted to him, voice shaking a little. He wanted to hear that same shaky voice when she was pinned beneath him.

He extended his arm, and she slipped her arm though his, still very carefully. She leaned into him and inhaled his scent, eyes glazing a little.

He assured her that they would find something to make her feel better, and a little of her sauciness surfaced. She gazed up at him, instructed him to lead the way, and then grinned wickedly. "I'm game for almost anything."

He was rather surprised at the flash of heat that moved through him, but then he returned her wicked grin. "Excellent."

"But I need food or I'm gonna pass out," Darcy told him quietly. "I didn't eat any lunch."

"You should not neglect yourself," Loki chided, echoing her words to him when they had first met. He steered her toward the restaurant they had eaten at several days ago.

Her smile was a little sad, and marred by the damaged lip. "Like I said, it was helluva day at work. Eating was the last thing on my mind."

"We'll start with food," Loki told her. He grinned when Darcy glanced sharply at him, hearing the innuendo in his voice.

She did not seem to be very hungry, he noticed when their food arrived. She only picked at her food, staring blankly at the table top. Of course, the damaged lip was causing her difficulties, but it was more than that. She seemed to be suffering from a wounded spirit. Loki could recognize the signs easily.

"What troubles you, Darcy?" Loki could admit that he was sometimes a selfish bastard and this was one of those times. He did not want the girl's attention focused on anything but him, and right now, she seemed to be lost inside her head. Something had wounded her beyond the physical, and he needed to move her past that.

She twitched in surprise, and looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, Luke. Today was just a really bad day. I…I learned some things today that I didn't want to know about a friend, I realized how horrible some of my coworkers are, and…" Her voice hitched and tears shimmered in her eyes. Loki was familiar with being on the edge, and something had pushed Darcy there. He reached out and took her hand, hoping to calm her. At this rate, she would be too upset to proceed with a liaison.

"What is it?"

"A very good friend of mine…he was hurt very badly this morning. Someone attacked him and almost killed him." Her voice broke and Loki watched her face crumble as she struggled to hold back tears.

Only years of tightly controlling the monster inside kept Loki from reacting. His evening of pleasure was in jeopardy due to his own actions. How ironic. Granted, he would not do anything differently if he had the chance. Someone dallying with his chosen dalliance could not be tolerated. Interesting to find out that the mortal man had survived. Perhaps mortals were stronger and more resilient than they appeared. He had been confident that if the knife did not kill the man, the magic pulse into his brain would. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of trying to hunt the man down and finish the job. Loki didn't like loose ends.

"You're scaring me a little right now." Darcy's voice was small and a little shaky.

Loki came out of himself and met her eyes. She did look a little frightened. Of him. "Why?" he asked.

"Because you look like you want to hurt someone. Badly." She had pulled away as far as she could without withdrawing her hand.

The monster inside of him reveled in the heady rush of fear he felt from her. He truly was an evil bastard that he was enjoying it so much. But mortal girl in fear of him did not equal a pleasurable liaison, and Loki wasn't one to take his pleasure by force. People probably thought he was, since his heritage as a monster had been revealed, but Loki liked his women willing. So he buried the monster deep within, and squeezed Darcy's hand reassuringly.

"I am sorry, Darcy. I did not mean to frighten you. It upset me to hear about your bad day."

Sif had once accused him of being the most deceitful being she had ever met because he lied not only with words, but with his entire being. It came naturally to him, and Loki employed those skills now. His eyes pulled her in, softening and soothing. His most deceitful smile warmed his face. The effect was immediate. The fear melted from her expression, and her tensed muscles relaxed.

He allowed a pulse of magic to move from his hand into Darcy's body, sensing. She had been handled roughly. There were cracked bones and torn muscles causing her pain. Slowly, so she would not notice, he sent his magic to seep into her, beginning the repair. She must be in terrible pain, and he found himself feeling a grudging respect that she wasn't complaining.

"Why are your coworkers so terrible?" he asked.

She launched into a long story, explaining how her preference for dating 'fanboys' had made her an easy target to her coworkers. Nothing of what she said explained the rough handling she had received. Loki sensed half truths and outright lies at times, but he couldn't pinpoint why she was not telling the full truth. Something had happened that had truly broken her spirit. So much so that she could not even talk about it. At this rate, a physical tryst would not happen.

He tried something new. It was a magic that he had never employed as a prince of Asgard, but he had always wanted to try. Through the contact of their hands, this insidious magic crept into the mortal girl. It teased and tantalized her senses, creating a burgeoning desire for one thing, and one thing only. Loki. With it came a sense of urgency. She had to have him or she would go mad.

It very quickly made her very agitated. Darcy kept moving restlessly in the restaurant booth, and a flush crept up her cheeks. She glanced at him several times, licking her lips, undressing him with her eyes. Loki was thrilled with how quickly it worked.

"Let's get out of here," she finally told him in a voice that was shaking with need.

"I have a hotel room nearby."

Darcy stood. "Let's go then. We've been killing time here too long."

Loki grinned and stood as well. "Impatient, are you?"

"You made me wait for days," the mortal girl retorted. "I'm not used to that. I feel better now, and I don't want to give you the chance to change your mind." She waited impatiently until he had slid his arms into his coat, and then took him by the hand and led him toward the exit.

Loki was fascinated by the reaction. He might have to tone it down for the next time he used it, but that tiny little bit of magic could prove very useful. What would happen if he used it on the heroes? A naughty laugh bubbled up and out of his mouth before he could stop it. Darcy glanced back, abused lower lip caught between her teeth, and grinned when she met his eyes.

Loki had procured a hotel room nearby. The employees were not aware that the room was occupied. They would not remember that the room existed until after he had left. It was a fine hotel, and the room was very nice. Not as opulent as his quarters in Asgard, but refreshingly free of his not-family.

Once in the hotel elevator, heading up toward the penthouse level, Darcy seemed to lose her patience. She was practically panting in need, and regardless of the other people on the elevator, she turned to Loki and wound herself around him. Bemused, Loki allowed her to pull his head down so that she could plunder his mouth with her own. She was very aggressive, little growls of frustration erupting from her mouth when his did not open to accept her tongue right away.

The other occupants of the elevator, older mortals judging by the gray color of their hair, looked scandalized as Darcy continued to growl and rub herself shamelessly against Loki. He shrugged helplessly at the older mortals and slid his arms around Darcy, finally opening his mouth to her plundering tongue. She was very enthusiastic.

The elevator dinged and the door opened, allowing the other occupants to rush out. Loki saw several mortals standing outside in the hallway, eyes wide as they looked in, and he beckoned them inside. No one made a move though, and the elevator door slid shut. Another naughty laugh bubbled up out of him, this one swallowed by Darcy's mouth.

When the elevator reached the penthouse level, Loki slid his hands down Darcy's back to curl around her thighs and hoist her off the floor. The mortal girl almost immediately wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Hurry," she whispered against his mouth, legs flexing around him.

Loki did not need any encouragement. She was grinding hard against a part of him that had become painfully stiff inside his tight jeans. That part of him wanted to be released so he could bury himself inside the wild mortal girl who was bucking against him. If he used magic on her again, he might need to tone it down a little. But if he used it against the heroes, he would amp it up. Darcy was nearly out of her mind in a frenzy of need, to the point where she could think of nothing else. That could be a dangerous weapon to use against the so-called heroes. Even his own not-brother. Loki liked the thought of Thor overcome by blinding desire for him. It would demoralize and haunt his not-brother later.

"Open the damn door!" Darcy panted against his mouth as Loki paused outside his room, lost in evil thoughts. When he didn't respond, she reached down and squeezed the part of him that was already too tightly confined for its size. That got his attention and nearly brought him to his knees.

"Enough, girl," he growled, hands tightening painfully around her thighs. Darcy hissed and tightened her legs around his waist. She would have bruises later from his clenching fingers, but right now, she obviously didn't care.

"Open the door," she repeated breathlessly, nipping at his lips.

Loki freed one hand to open the door. It was not locked, since no one remembered that it was here, so he twisted the knob and pushed the door open. It swung shut behind him with a rattling thump, and Loki stalked toward the bedroom, Darcy still clinging to him. Her little nips were becoming hard bites, threatening his concentration, and one of her hands had slid up under his shirt, trailing fingernails up over the ridges of his abdomen. It sent a wash of heat curling through Loki's body.

By the time he reached the bedroom, Darcy's hand had opened his jeans and slid inside, freeing him. Loki breathed a little sigh of relief against her hot mouth that stuttered into a gasp when her hand curled around him.

"Let go," he hissed when his legs bumped into the bed.

She did not want to relinquish her prize. "No," she returned, squeezing firmly and moving her hand slowly up and down.

Loki's knees nearly buckled. He lowered her to the bed and sank down himself. When Darcy did not release him he growled at her and tried to pull her shirt up over her head. One arm came free, but the other arm was still attached to him.

"Release me," he commanded.

Darcy huffed, but finally released him. Loki tugged her shirt free, and frowned. She was wearing the restrictive underclothes that mortals were so fond of, and he had no idea how to release her from it.

She laughed softly, as if sensing his dilemma, and reached her arms behind her back. The binding garment loosened immediately, and Loki pulled it free, casting it to one side. He pinned her arms and leaned down to fill his mouth with her. Darcy gasped and arched up against him.

"Ohmigod Luke," she breathed. "Let go of my arms." Then she groaned loudly. "Oh...don't use teeth. Don't use teeth!" Her voice went high and breathless at the end.

Loki grinned against her skin. "Worship me," he whispered, giving her ample chest one last nip before sitting up and stripping her of her pants.

Darcy looked up at him, cheeks flushed rosy red. That blush was rapidly spreading down her chest. Loki felt a deep sense of satisfaction when he saw the red nip marks on her porcelain skin. Her arms were still pinned, but she didn't seem to mind right now. Still…Loki released her arms so he could pull his shirt over his head.

The hiss of appreciation from the mortal girl was a balm to his wounded soul. Never acceptable by Asgardian standards, yet this girl found his slim physique appealing. Her eyes were raking over his smooth skin and lean muscles. A small smile stretched her lips.

"Very nice," she whispered. Then her eyes trailed playfully down toward his waist.

Loki almost found himself preening under her gaze, until he remembered that he was a god and she should be worshipping him. Apparently he was allowing her too much recovery time because she was capable of independent thought. So he scooted backward off the bed, and stripped his tight jeans off. Then he cast himself back down on the bed, pinning the girl with his body.

"You are a god," she whispered, hands stroking along his skin, and legs sliding around his waist to pull him close.

"Yes," he agreed, and then bent his head to take her mouth. He left her barely enough breath to breathe. She was soon reduced to mindless begging against his mouth, arms curled around his, legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him where she needed him to be. Loki would decide when that moment came though. The luscious girl would not rule him. Just to be sure of his dominance, he sent another pulse of magic into her, rendering her senseless with the need to be possessed by him.

He slid a hand down her stomach, enjoying the quivering muscles it left in its wake. He touched her and teased her with hand and mouth. The sounds she made - soft sighs and pleasured cries, begging whimpers…all were music to his ears.

When it seemed she could stand no more, having been brought to the brink several times by his clever fingers, Loki abruptly withdrew his hand. Darcy voiced a wordless protest, pelvis arching, trying to follow his fingers. It was the perfect opportunity, and Loki surged forward, finally burying himself in her inviting heat. After being wound up without release several times, she swiftly came to a peak of pleasure, back arched and heels digging into the bed.

She collapsed after several wrenching tremors, but Loki was far from finished.

* * *

><p>The echoes of the mortal girl's cries of pleasure had faded. She was sprawled on one side of the bed, deeply asleep with one arm thrown up over her head. Loki had used her, and used her hard until she was limp in mindless pleasure. When he had reached for her for the fifth time, she had begged him to let her rest.<p>

Loki had briefly considered ignoring her pleas and indulging himself again, but he did not want to break his new mortal plaything. She was a receptacle for his pleasure, and adept at providing it. Her senses had been easily overwhelmed, and she had breathed out her appreciation of his talents, and begged him to use her more. There was darkness at her core, and a self revulsion that was eerily familiar, because Loki felt the same. And even though the darkness had temporarily receded from the forefront of his being in the aftermath of physical pleasure, Loki could feel it building once more. He was a

monster, after all. An exhausting dalliance would not change that fact.

He was not tired. He felt physically fulfilled, but still empty inside. She had been powerless before him, but how much of that was because of the magic he had used to manipulate her? It was a double edged sword. Use of the magic had guaranteed the reaction he needed, but the idea that it was magic that had brought the mortal girl to her knees, and not simply himself, was slightly unpalatable.

Loki wanted to be needed. Adored. Worshipped. He stood at the floor to ceiling windows in the living area, looking out over the city. They would know adulation or fear soon. They would bow to one knee before him, or he would destroy them all. Including the mortal girl in his bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Waking was like pulling herself out of a tar pit. Sleep and oblivion had their clutching fingers locked tightly around her, and they did not want to let go.

Darcy pried her eyes open with a soft protest. Everything hurt. Everything. She could feel every slam that Natasha had treated her to as fresh as the moment it had happened. When she tried to sit up, other places hurt. The night swam back to her in a rush. Flashes of an embarrassing display in an elevator, and then total ravishment in a hotel room. She had been out of her mind with need. So much so that she couldn't think coherently.

There was no sign of Luke as she very carefully slid out of bed. Oh wow. She hadn't known the human body could hurt that badly and still function. It felt like she'd been pummeled by a giant, pillow covered hammer, all over. Some parts hurt worse than other parts. There was a stinging pain on her lower lip, and the side of her face ached terribly. Her ribcage hurt deeply inside, probably from crashing into the wall hard a few times, courtesy of Natasha. Her left shoulder also hurt terribly, but not as bad as it had last night.

Then there were the other hurts. The muscles in her legs, hips, and abdomen felt like they'd been on the rack for hours – stretched and now painfully sore. There was a deep, throbbing ache between her legs and inside her. The man had practically been a machine. Four times he'd gone, and when he'd reached for her the fifth time, she'd felt like crying. How much insane, blissful pleasure could one take before the body and brain gave up? She couldn't do it again, and had begged him to let her be. He had, reclining back in the bed with one arm behind his head, completely comfortable in his nakedness. It had been such a turn on that Darcy couldn't resist a parting shot. She had flopped over and wiggled down his body to demonstrate her oral talents. He had been loudly appreciative, yanking on her hair hard enough to pull some strands free.

Afterwards, she had been completely wiped out, and sleep had taken her quickly.

She was probably forever ruined now. Darcy couldn't picture herself settling for a regular fanboy again, with their somewhat doughy bodies, and tentative, fumbling sex. Luke had put them all, combined, to shame. Hell, he'd even put Clint to shame, and Clint was a fun, skilled lover. But he had nothing on Luke's talents.

Thoughts of Clint led her to why she had gotten beat up by Natasha, and Darcy gasped, tears springing almost instantly to her eyes. Clint was in the hospital, in a coma, and she had been crass enough to fall into bed with a lover, completing indulging herself. Poor Clint had been stabbed and almost killed, likely by Thor's crazy little brother Loki, and here she was, scratching, no…blasting an itch. What the hell was wrong with her?

With mincing little steps, trying to minimize the pain, Darcy made her way to the bathroom. A stranger stared back at her from the bathroom mirror. A stranger that looked somewhat like a vampire on a seven day bender. The blood crusted on her lip and trailing down over her chin freaked her out, until she realized that she'd either bitten it open in her sleep, or the rough kissing of the night before had caused the bite wound in the lower lip to break open.

There was an ugly purpling bruise spreading across most of her right cheek and into her eye. She had felt that one the whole way down when Natasha slammed her. The eye itself was swollen and bloodshot. It hurt to move her face at all.

Darcy winced, raising one hand to her hair, which was a tangled mess of awful. Well no wonder! She'd had a very energetic night, plus there had been the tugging. Thank God Luke wasn't around currently to see her, because she did look frightening. Small children would probably run from her right now.

She needed to pee and then she needed to shower. Darcy had to stifle a chuckle (because it hurt too much) when she saw the note on the toilet seat. Who puts a note on the toilet seat? Luke, apparently.

His handwriting was beautiful and neat, with graceful looping lines. It informed her that he had had to leave to take care of some emergency problems with his new job. She should feel free to avail herself to anything in the apartment, and he would see her at some later time or day.

Darcy wasn't sure if it was a brushoff or not. Luke seemed to be someone who could easily keep people at arm's length, not letting anyone close. She knew it was only a temporary thing at best, but she wanted the chance to know him better. More than just the physical. Although that had been fantastic.

With little pained sounds, she managed to get into the shower stall. The hot, pounding water felt so good. It really freaked her out at first because it ran red as it cleaned the crusted blood from her face. She just stood there for the longest time, allowing the heat to loosen and soothe her muscles. Finally, she felt like she could move a little more freely, so she very carefully soaped herself, and then washed her wild, tangled hair. Thankfully the hotel had small bottles of conditioner to go with the shampoo, so she used them all to help loosen the snarls in her hair.

Finally though, she had to get out of the shower, because her skin was wrinkling too much. Darcy wrapped one towel around her hair, and another around her abused body. She had bruises all over, both from Natasha, and her night of debauchery with Luke.

The shower had exhausted her though, so she shuffled to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed for a little. When she felt up to it, she managed to gather her clothes and get dressed. Her hair was still wet, so she twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck so that it didn't look too bad. No matter what she did, she was still going to look like she was taking the walk of shame when she left the room.

She had emergency makeup in her bag, and covered up her bruises as best as she could. Thankfully, some of Coulson's more bizarre habits had rubbed off on her, because she actually had spare clothes for work. There was no way she was going into work in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday. There were too many nasty jokes waiting to happen if she did that.

Before she left, she did find paper to leave her own note. Not on the toilet, but on the bathroom mirror. It thanked Luke for a wonderful night, and provided her cell number in case he wanted to call.

Darcy had enough time to swing by the hospital before work. Her footsteps lagged quite a bit, but she couldn't not visit.

She wasn't sure what had happened overnight, but there were three S.H.I.E.L.D agents on duty outside Clint and Thor's room. Apparently it had been easier to leave the fallen God of Thunder in the same room than to try to move him. But why were there guards? And these weren't the grunts she worked with, either. These were the high level, lethal-with-a toothpick agents she normally didn't see.

All three of them came to attention when she approached. Darcy flashed her S.H.I.E.L.D badge, but that didn't seem to affect them. The smallest of the three stepped forward with a mobile retina scanner, and raised an eyebrow.

Darcy pulled her glasses off and leaned forward. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes ma'am," the smallest agent advised. He studied the results, and then flipped open his phone. "You're on the approved list, so you may enter."

"There's a list?" What the hell had happened last night?

"Yes ma'am. There are rumors all over the city of an insane super villain who is targeting the team. I believe you know the identity of the alleged villain, so you can understand why precautions are being taken."

It was still weird, no matter what. Darcy pushed past them a little warily, and entered the hospital room. Thor looked entirely too big for the hospital bed he was sprawled on. It was the first time Darcy had ever seen him look pale, and it was a little unsettling, but she still hadn't forgiven him for what had happened yesterday. So she pretty much ignored his presence, and went to Clint's bedside.

The archer was still horribly pale and still. If the beeping machines hadn't reassured her…he almost looked like a corpse. Not that she'd seen a lot of corpses. But he didn't look like a person who was alive.

"Hey archer boy," she greeted softly. "I'm on my way to work, but I had to stop in and say hi. Come back soon, okay? I could use another sympathetic ear. Plus, the city is all full of rumors, and…it's just bad times right now." She squeezed his hand. "I'd feel a lot safer if you were up and about. Just saying…"

She hoped that Clint could hear her. His sense of duty to protect others was a driving force in what motivated him, and she hoped by appealing to that sense of duty, it would make him fight harder to come back.

"I…I really need someone to talk to, archer boy. Someone who will stand up for me. You and Jane, you're like the only ones left I know I can trust. Well, in a pinch, maybe Banner and Rogers, but it's iffy. Please come back." She checked her watch and swore softly. "I gotta go, Clint. I'm gonna be late." Then she thought about what had happened yesterday at work. "You know what? Fuck 'em." She sat down beside the bed and took his hand.

"I'm a shitty person. You know that, right? A total douche. I'm shitty because last night, when I was leaving work, I bumped into that strange fanboy who turned me down the other day. He …well, he wanted to have some fun, and I should have said no, but I was under the influence of narcotic painkillers, so I said yes. God…I know we're not dating or anything, but it still feels like it was a betrayal of some kind. Here you are, lying in the hospital after you were stabbed, and I go out to get laid."

"My night was unbelievable…in case you wondered. This guy….he's so different. He's like a god." Darcy sighed, lost in very blush-worthy memories. "Anyhow…I'm really thinking that I'm just gonna take off soon. Let Coulson and Fury bring their wrath down upon me because I want to be…anywhere else. There's no point in me being here. It was cool at first, and getting to have a little fun with an honest to God superhero was really awesome, but there's no future in it. We make great fuck buddies, Clint, but I know who has your heart, and I'll never be like her. I wouldn't want to be. I think you could do so much better." Darcy blinked back the tears that were threatening. "Shit. Why is this my life? I hope you can hear me, archer boy. Anyhow…I really gotta go. They're gonna yell at me for being late. Maybe they'll fire me and save me the trouble? Nah…they'd never make it that easy. Besides, I imagine that getting fired from a secret government agency is a little different than normal jobs. Later, Clint."

Darcy wasn't moving too well or fast when she finally hit the tunnel from hell. Ugh. It looked like it was five miles long, the way she felt. She had to rest three times before she made it to the other end and the elevator.

It was somewhat gratifying to hear the catcalls trail off into a stunned silence when she made her way through the agents' area. There was no way to hide the swollen eye, and no amount of concealer in the world could cover the dark purple bruise along the side of her face. Add to that the fact that she was walking like a zombie, and Darcy had everyone's attention. She didn't give a shit.

"Is that Lewis?" Coulson's voice, hard edged with anger, floated out of his office. "In my office right now, Lewis."

Darcy altered her trajectory, vaguely aware of the quiet murmuring behind her.

Coulson was staring at his computer screen, typing angrily. He didn't even look up. It was the most emotion Darcy had seen him display in…well…ever.

"Sit down, Lewis."

Darcy did so, very gingerly.

"You do realize that you are an hour and a half late for work, correct?"

"Yes sir," she responded. Part of her hoped she would be fired.

Coulson was still staring at his computer screen, lips compressed. "I believe I also explained to you about the importance of being punctual, when you first began working for us."

"Yes sir."

"This kind of behavior is not acceptable and will not be tolerated." Coulson finally looked up at her. Darcy wished she could have had a camera on his face, because he suddenly realized why she was late. It was almost worth the beating to see the open-mouthed expression on her boss's face. Or any expression.

Coulson opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and then looked down at his keyboard. "I'm sorry, Darcy. I didn't realize that you were handled that roughly yesterday." He raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

She didn't say anything, enjoying his unease. Maybe she should have left the dried blood on her face for extra effect. Coulson was almost squirming in his seat, eyes tracking the visible damage and no doubt wondering about the damage that wasn't visible.

"Do you…need anything?" he finally asked.

"Not from anyone here," Darcy responded in scornful tone. "May I go now, sir?"

"Yes."

Darcy knew his eyes were on her as she stood, very carefully, and walked out of his office. Okay, she might be milking it a little bit, but she wanted them all to feel horrible. She wanted them all to feel like she did.

Word must have traveled because within an hour, Jane was at her desk, spinning her chair around. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened. "Oh my God, Darcy! Natasha did this to you?"

"She was upset about what happened to Clint, and thought one of my fanboys had done it," Darcy shrugged dully. She was done with all of them, except Jane and Clint. No one else would stand up for her, so fuck them.

Jane reached out toward her chin, but Darcy pulled back. "Please don't." She didn't want Jane to see the little bruising nip marks on her neck that she had attempted to cover with concealer. It hadn't been entirely affective. It really didn't matter, since Jane only had eyes for the giant bruise and swollen eye.

"This is so not fucking okay!" Jane was getting a little loud in her agitation, and Darcy didn't really want to call attention to herself.

"Don't worry about it, Jane. I'll be fine."

"Like hell!" The scientist turned on her heel and stormed away. If Darcy had felt slightly better, she might have gone after her, because it looked like Jane was going to hand someone their spleen on a platter. Which could be really cool, and Darcy wanted to watch.

Coulson got the dressing down of his life. Darcy could hear it even through the closed office door. Which had slammed shut hard enough to rattle windows. Jane might be a thin little thing, but she was ferocious. And right now, she was giving Coulson hell. Darcy couldn't understand the words through the closed door, but she could hear the tone. Jane was pissed. It made her feel slightly better to know that there was at least one person who was on her side.

With another window rattling slam, Jane exited Coulson's office. She was still spouting as she walked back to Darcy's desk.

"And someone is going to answer for this shit!"

At the moment, Jane was more intimidating than Thor. Darcy stared up at her friend with a little trepidation. Jane looked like she was ready to bite someone.

"I'm tired of the way you're treated, Darce. And since no one else is going to stand up for you, I will." The scientist hopped up to sit on Darcy's desk. "I talked to Stark, you know." Her head drooped. "Thor is gonna hear about it, when he wakes up. I don't care what was going on. You're a friend, and he just watched it happen!"

Tears threatened, burning in the abused eye. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. "Don't make me cry, you bitch," she complained. "I've had a shitty, yet also completely amazing, couple of days."

Jane leaned over to awkwardly hug her. "I know about the shitty part. Tell me about the completely amazing part, because I could use some cheering up."

Darcy started with the good times with Clint. It never failed to make Jane a little sad that the archer couldn't give up his mad obsession for Natasha. Jane, more than anyone, had wanted Darcy and Clint to work, because Jane knew Clint was a good guy. Jane wanted Darcy and Clint more than Darcy and Clint had wanted it, and she still held out hope every time the two of them got together.

Jane was looking all fluttery eyed and swooney by the time Darcy finished. Darcy had, of course, included very dirty details. She never would have gotten anything out of Jane about Thor's bedroom prowess if she hadn't spilled on Clint's. It still made both men a little nervous when the two women looked at them with knowing looks.

"Oh Darce…I just wish…it's so romantic."

Darcy raised the eyebrow that wasn't hovering over the swollen eye. "What about that entire situation did you find romantic, Foster? The cheesy pickup lines, or the Iron Man condoms?"

Jane shrieked with a little laugh, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth. "That was the best. I have to get some of those." She sighed then. "You and Clint are perfect. Why…?"

"Because," Darcy said firmly. "We're much better as friends than we were in that very brief time where we tried to have an actual relationship. And we occasionally have the physical benefits." Then, just because she had to share, Darcy leaned toward Jane and lowered her voice. "And that wasn't the best part of my two days."

Jane's eyes popped open. "Do tell, girl."

Darcy launched into the tale of Luke. Why not? It kept her mind off the pain, and it was nice to have stories to top Jane's own. Secretly, Darcy hoped Jane would tell Thor this story, so that Thor would feel inadequate. And he should! Luke had outperformed a god. Jane's eyes kept growing larger and larger as Darcy waxed eloquent over Luke's prowess and how he looked, how he felt…

How he felt…ohmigod, how he felt! Darcy felt the blood drain from her face, and her stomach bottomed out on the floor. She was careful. She was always careful, even though it seemed foolish with the fanboys. But she hadn't been careful. She hadn't even thought…

Jane saw the change in her face. "What? Darcy, what is it?" The scientist leaned forward, her thin face creased in worry.

"I didn't…Jane…I wasn't careful! I'm always careful. But I didn't even think about it with Luke!" Darcy felt dangerously close to hyperventilating. It was so completely unlike her to be so reckless. She wanted to puke.

She saw some color drain from Jane's face. "That's…not like you, Darce. Do you have a way to contact this Luke? You need to talk to him."

Darcy was having trouble focusing, mind cheerfully supplying all kinds of horrifying things that could go with unprotected sex. "Uh…I know where he's staying."

Jane nodded. "Then you need to go talk to him after work." The scientist bit her lip. "I hope that he's a good guy."

Darcy grimaced. Deep down, in that place where her warning voices lived, she knew that Luke wasn't. If someone's health stood between Luke and what he wanted, heaven help that person. In an acknowledgment of her own problems, she had to admit that was part of the attraction. She wanted to tell Jane that Luke was probably the one Jane kept warning her about, but at the same time, she didn't.

"I guess I'll find out," she finally offered quietly.

Jane finally had to get back to her job, so she awkwardly hugged Darcy again. "I hope that something comes of my bitch fest." She reached out to not-quite touch the side of Darcy's face. "This is unacceptable."

Darcy had the funny feeling that nothing would come of it. She was a trouble maker.

* * *

><p>Lunch had been a no-go. Darcy had tried to eat something, but she was in so much pain (and worrying so much about unprotected sex) that her stomach rebelled at first bite, so she just settled for sipping water and taking more pain pills. All the S.H.I.E.L.D agents who usually harassed her were giving her a wide berth. Darcy had gotten so used to the catcalls wherever she was that it was unnerving when everything went silent around her.<p>

She was getting very strange looks. It seemed that some of the agents held a grudging respect for her now. She had taken lumps from the Black Widow, and hadn't made a complaint about it. She had come in to work the day after with her head held up. Hell, if she had known that getting beat up would give her some peace, she would have done it months ago.

A polite knock sounded on her cubicle wall. Darcy looked up to see Rogers and Banner. Steve's expression, when he caught sight of her face, was mildly horrified. Bruce seemed to be sad. Sad was better than big and green, which was what he had been the last time he had been in the Darcy Zone.

"How are you doing, Darcy?" Rogers asked softly.

"I feel as bad or worse than I look," she retorted. "How about you, Cap? 21st century treating you okay lately?" She couldn't keep the hard edge out of her voice. He was only here out of a sense of duty. Or orders.

Rogers flinched a little. "Darcy…I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. Natasha was out of line."

Darcy held a hand up. "I really don't want to hear any excuses or justifications. I know where I rank on the list of importance here, Rogers. I think I know exactly what will come of it, too. You can go now. Duty fulfilled."

If she'd slapped him, it probably wouldn't have surprised him more. Rogers blinked, tried to say something twice, but then just closed his mouth. He bowed his head and retreated.

Bruce lingered for a moment. "For what it's worth, Darcy, you've handled yourself well." He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he shrugged and also withdrew.

It wasn't worth much.

Darcy resumed working, even though she could barely concentrate. Between the pain and the sick to her stomach feeling, it was very hard to focus on transcribing reports. The whole right side of her body, down to her hips, was throbbing. It was also very hard to focus her swollen eye on the reports. Any attempt to squint, to improve focus, set off more pounding pain. Apparently, there was only so much that painkillers could do.

When a shadow fell over her, Darcy tilted her head up, painfully. "Go away," she said as soon as she saw who it was. "I don't want to talk to you."

Stark ignored her. He looked ridiculous with his carefully groomed facial hair and sunglasses inside the building. Darcy couldn't help but feel a flash of anger as she remembered how he had watched Natasha go nuts on her. When he reached out toward her face, Darcy jerked back and batted his hand away, and then gasped as pain spiked through her body. For one awful second, the world went dark, and it took everything she had to keep from puking.

"Shit," she heard Stark mumble, as she breathed carefully, eyes squeezed shut. If felt like someone was running a steamroller up and down over her body.

"You'd better come take a look at this."

It didn't register at first that Stark was talking on his phone, and she wondered who he was talking to. It wasn't really that important. Not puking…that was important.

The intense, nausea-inducing pain finally ebbed, and Darcy pried her eyes open. Tony Stark was staring at her with a worried expression. She hadn't thought Stark capable of worrying about anyone but himself, so it was a revelation.

"Not gonna puke?" he asked.

"No." Darcy lifted a bottle of water to her lips and took several small sips until she was sure that wouldn't. Stark's intense stare was creeping her out and making her mad. After all, he could have prevented this. She tried to ignore him, focusing on her computer screen, but she could feel his eyes burning into her.

"What?" she finally snapped, not looking at him. "Enjoying your handiwork from yesterday?"

"My handiwork?' he protested. "I didn't do this to you."

"I hold you and Thor as equally responsible as Natasha. You could have stopped it."

She carefully turned to look at him, and Stark appeared even more worried. Of course. He was probably going to catch hell for not doing anything to stop Natasha. She hoped he did. Ass.

She was very surprised when Fury rounded the corner and stepped into her cubicle. It was getting very crowded, and not in a pleasant way.

The director did not look happy. His eye widened slightly at the site of Darcy's face, then narrowed when he glanced at Stark.

"Lewis. I want you to get checked out at the hospital. That looks bad."

"Feels bad too. What? Suddenly everyone is concerned? No one seemed to care yesterday."

It was worth it to see Nick Fury look uncomfortable. "We had other things on our mind yesterday, Lewis."

Darcy nodded carefully. "Yeah. Like I told Rogers…No thank you, Nick. I'm just fine."

He scowled, and jerked a thumb at Stark, who practically ran from the cubicle. Fury took a seat on the desk beside Darcy's computer, and scowled down at her. "It's not a suggestion, Lewis. It's an order."

"Too little too late, Nick. I prefer not to know what got fucked up inside me yesterday." Darcy swallowed hard, because that statement covered two separate events. The physical beating, and the not-so-smart unprotected sex later. How had she even been able to have sex with this much pain? She didn't remember any pain from last night. Just unbelievable, overwhelming pleasure.

Fury usually swung with her way of doing things, but he wasn't backing down this time. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd like to remind you of the agreements you signed when you began your employment. Agent Jones will be by shortly to escort you to the hospital."

Darcy knew when she was beaten. "Fine. Goodbye Nick. I have work to finish."

* * *

><p>Apparently, being a government agent cut through a lot of steps at the hospital. Darcy, under the close supervision of not only Agent Jones but Steve Rogers as well, was ushered right in with no waiting to have an MRI done. She felt like a criminal with her two escorts. At least they weren't permitted in the same room as the MRI equipment.<p>

After it was finished, and Darcy was allowed to dress, she was ushered to a small private waiting room, along with her bodyguards. She wondered if Fury suspected she would attempt to lose Agent Jones, and that's why Rogers was here. Or maybe this was S.H.I.E.L.D's way of pretending to care. The captain hadn't uttered a word to her since his departure from the Darcy Zone earlier, but he was watching her carefully.

In a remarkably short period of time, an aide appeared, and gestured for Darcy to follow. When her escorts stood with her, the aide held out a negating hand.

"I'm sorry gentleman. You'll need to wait here. I'll have Miss Lewis back shortly."

Jones didn't care and sat back down right away, but Rogers looked wary. After a few seconds of the aide staring at him, the captain took his seat again.

Darcy was taken to a private consult room. She didn't think that was standard procedure, and that worried her a little. When a female doctor, along with several other women, entered the room, she was a little suspicious.

It began normally enough. Darcy had several cracked ribs, a hairline fracture in her right cheekbone and jaw, and a separated shoulder. There were also torn muscles. She was not allowed to work for the next week while things mended.

The doctor folded her hands on the table in front of her and leaned forward a little. "Miss Lewis – do you feel threatened or unsafe?"

Darcy's eyebrows went up. "Frequently, but probably not for the reasons you're thinking. I can't tell you why. It's classified." She had always wanted to say that. "Why don't you tell me what you're getting at? I have places to be, and people to talk to."

The doctor inclined her head. "Were you raped?"

Darcy blinked. "What?"

"We scanned down to your knees, Miss Lewis. You had a great deal of trauma in your pelvic region, consistent with rape."

Darcy was mortified. "Oh wow. Believe me; that was completely consensual. Just a little more enthusiastic and full of stamina than I had anticipated."

The doctor had been studying her very carefully, and apparently, her explanation was satisfactory. "Okay. We will be providing a report to your agency about the other injuries. I'll leave out the part about your…recreational injuries."

Thank God. Darcy didn't want to imagine the look on Fury's or Coulson's face reading that part of her report.

"I'm also writing you a prescription for some heavy duty painkillers. They're a little stronger than what you've been using. They should help keep the pain to a tolerable level." The doctor leveled a mothering stare at Darcy. "No recreational activities for at least a week also."

That was slightly embarrassing, but Darcy nodded her agreement.

Her escorts were silent as they escorted her back to Avengers Headquarters, although Rogers kept staring at her. It was unnerving. Darcy couldn't shake the feeling that Rogers knew something she didn't, or suspected something, because he was creeping her out as much as Stark had earlier.

Agent Jones peeled off as soon as they were safely inside, but Rogers directed Darcy to Coulson's office. Phil was pacing when they entered.

He looked up. "Miss Lewis, you're on medical leave for the next week." He paused, and seemed to be briefly at a loss for words. "I…I'm sorry."

Darcy was getting really tired of hearing that. "Whatever, Phil. The job environment sucked before I got slammed around. This just confirms my impression. I'm so glad that the heroes are so eager to jump in and rescue people in trouble. I just didn't realize that didn't extend to me. Now I know. But you know what? It's all good. I needed some time off anyhow."

Darcy took off the key that was on the chain around her neck, and placed it on Phil's desk. She pivoted, very carefully, and left Coulson's office. There were a few items she had to pick up from her desk, so she headed that way. The office was very, very quiet as she walked through it.

Darcy collected her things, and shut her computer off. She walked back through the office, noting the wide eyes watching her progress. No one said anything to her though. Darcy didn't care. She had a date with the pharmacy, and then her bed


	10. Chapter 10

Saw the Avengers. Loki is so wickedly evil it provided me with inspiration.

FYI: go see the movie. It's so far beyond fantastic that I can't even describe it. More than lives up to the hype. You'll laugh, you may cry, and you'll probably sit on the edge of your seat a couple of times. Joss Whedon is a freaking genius for pulling it all together.

* * *

><p>Loki woke restless and bored. The previous night had been immensely satisfying physically. He could have kept going, because he was a god, but he also didn't want to use his new toy until she broke. After all, she would be available to him whenever he wanted her to be. With or without the magic. She had been so in awe of him and his abilities. It was a welcome change from Asgardian women, who always made him feel inadequate, and there was always that unspoken comparison to his not-brother.<p>

The mortal girl was still deeply asleep beside him. Terrible bruising had come out overnight on her face. There was additional bruising down her front on the right side of her body, and Loki knew there would be bruising on the back as well. It made him very angry that someone had handled his toy so roughly. If she became too damaged, he would not be able to use her to sate his desires.

He was also curious. The girl had not been damaged after her night of pleasure with the mortal man warrior. The damage had occurred later in the day, at her job. Darcy had not been lying about that part.

Loki had observed mortals long enough to know that violence in the place of work was frowned upon. He wondered what had prompted the outburst against the girl. He wanted to take steps to be sure it didn't happen again. Whoever had damaged her would need to learn they were not welcome to play with his toy.

With a few whispers, he settled a compulsion magic on the girl to obey him, and then commanded her to wake without waking. Darcy, eyes still closed, turned her head toward him.

"Tell me who damaged you," he commanded.

The girl's sleeping face contorted, and her mouth struggled to formulate a response, as if she was not quite sure. With a pained sigh, she finally spoke:

"Black Widow."

Loki twitched in surprise. The girl had had a run in with the female Avenger? She stood no chance against the deadly strength and purpose of the Widow. It was a wonder that she had escaped with only the damage she had.

Loki allowed the girl to sink back into sleep, noting the crusted blood that had run from the damaged lip. Along with the bruising, it gave her a demonic appearance. Fitting, he supposed, for her to resemble a demonic creature after lying with him. She was tarnished now. Marked by a monster. The taint would follow her through her short life and set her apart from other mortals.

He rose gracefully from the bed to take a shower. A part of him knew he was running away from the girl's taint, from the tarnish he had caused. He withered and warped everything he came into contact with. A monster, hiding in the skin of the Aesir. A monster who had killed the monster that had fathered and then abandoned him. He had hoped that the death of Laufey would ease the deep core of revulsion he felt upon learning that he was a monster. But it would never go away. Even if he had succeeded in destroying Jotunheim, there would still be one monster left.

The hot water soothed him, keeping the cold at bay, taking his mind away from the dark place where it had gone. So…the female Avenger had damaged his toy? He would ensure she could not do so again. He was the only one who could play rough with his toys. She would be the first hero he tested his lust spell on. It had worked remarkably well on Darcy, and that was at a fraction of the strength he could use.

Loki thoughtfully left a note for the mortal girl where she would not miss it, and headed out. He needed to create a disturbance large enough to pull the Avengers out of their headquarters. It would be productive in more ways than one, since he could then confirm if the rumors regarding his not-brother and the archer were true. Plus, he really wanted to indulge in wanton destruction to celebrate a night of indulgent pleasure.

The day was a mad scramble of planning. The initial decision to punish the Black Widow for mishandling his mortal toy had Loki rushing out to frontally assault the hero's base of operations. It was only when arriving at the fringes of the fan crowd that his mind began thinking rationally. It was unlike him to act so rashly. Even as a child he had always carefully thought things through before acting. There were specific goals he wanted to accomplish with this punishment, and haste would compromise those goals.

He wanted to demoralize the Avengers. The image of their teammate throwing herself at his feet, begging to be taken, would certainly do so, but Loki knew it could be used for so much more. It would take place in public, where others could see, so that the helpless sheep would lose faith in their heroes. Mortals would be so much easier to subjugate after seeing their heroes fall prey to him.

He was not prepared to engage the heroes until late night, and decided to wait until morning. He wanted the world to see their heroes falter in broad daylight. The rest of the night would be used to ensure a large crowd was gathered. Not at the heroes headquarters, but elsewhere.

A few compulsions easily granted the information he needed. The city had a tradition of holding a musical performance in the morning of the same day, every week. It was for one of the broadcast shows that Loki could not be bothered with, as they all seemed mindless, and encouraged sluggish thought. But this would present the perfect opportunity. A crowd always gathered at these functions, and it would be broadcast live, so the Avengers would be on sight almost immediately.

Loki scouted the area in the darkest hours of the night, and had to snort with derision. Mortals were so foolish. The location was surrounded by tall buildings and afforded very little cover. At the same time, he could easily attack from above in the most dramatic fashion. It would surely bring the heroes out quickly.

He settled on the roof of the building that overlooked the sight, slipping easily into a meditative pose. The remainder of the night was spent crafting various spells that needed only to be triggered, including the lust spell that he crafted with loving hatred. He would destroy the woman hero who had damaged one of Loki's toys.

* * *

><p>Loki stared down at the ground in the light of day. It was too perfect. The gathered crowd was very large, and consisted of many young girls. Mortals, despite all of their other shortcomings, were very protective of their young. It would be an added incentive to the heroes.<p>

The musical performer, when he made his way out a walkway cleared through the crowd, was also ridiculously young. Certainly too young to be worshipped. But the gathered young girls were screaming and swooning over the boy, who was dark-haired and skinnier even then Loki. The boy obviously enjoyed the adulation, because his hips swung a little as he traversed the walkway, occasionally blessing his worshippers by reaching out and allowing their stretching hands to brush his.

Loki's lip curled in a sneer. The young mortal was about to be humbled. No one in this miserable realm should be worshipped. They were not worthy of it. He would show them a being worth worshipping.

He watched the boy climb steps to a raised dais where he would perform for the crowd. The boy would also be providing a performance to the world, but it would be the last performance he ever gave. Loki called his armor, which shimmered into existence, along with his helmet.

The God of Mischief waited until the young boy was caterwauling, much like a feline in heat, and the crowd was staring and screaming in rapt adoration. Then he stepped off the edge of the building.

Air roared by his ears, tearing at his armor and cape as he plummeted. It blurred his vision and would have scraped his skin raw had he been mortal. It felt so much like traveling the Bifrost that Loki felt a powerful stab of longing to go home. To shoot around the Nine Realms with his idiot (not)brother pretending to lead them to glorious adventure while really only picking fights with the neighboring realms.

Ironic that using his body as a projectile weapon to start a war with his not-brother would make him long for home. Loki squashed that sentiment savagely. He had no home. Asgard would never welcome him back. He was the monster they feared and hated. He was a sneaky sorcerer who had never fit in. He had tried to kill their precious golden prince.

A roar of rage (or was it an anguished cry?) broke from his mouth. He was the monster. It was only fitting that he looked the part. The change rippled through him, and he tried not to flinch from the sight of his now-blue hands, pressed tightly to his side to minimize air flow.

He was falling toward the ground like a high speed harbinger of doom. Loki used magic to slow his descent, but only a fraction. A controlled fall would not hurt him, and he had a very specific target in mind.

The roaring in his ears was too loud to hear the screams as he hit the raised dais like a meteorite, caving it in and throwing debris into the air. He landed in a crouch, closing his eyes against the dust and debris. The foolish mortal boy fell against his shoulders and dropped to the ground.

Loki waited for the air to clear and then opened his eyes. For a second, he could only _see_ screams in the open mouths of the crowd, but then sound caught up to him in a sweet chorus of terror. It was like a lullaby to his wounded soul.

Loki unfolded from his crouch, pulling the mortal singer up with him. The boy was dazed, shaking dust and debris from his eyes. He hadn't yet realized his danger.

"Holy shit, man. How are you not a pancake after that?"

"I am very resilient," Loki replied absently. The mechanical devices that captured and broadcasted pictures were still actively focused on them. Good.

The boy brushed himself off and looked up at his savior. His face went slack as he took in the armor, the helmet, the blue skin and the demon red eyes. He tried to back a step away, but Loki had a firm grasp on his arm.

"Are you…are you one of those mutant types?" the singer whispered.

Loki leaned over to get into his face. "I am something beyond what you are capable of comprehending. I am a God, boy. You are not, yet you play at being one. You bask in the adulation of your worshippers, and accept it as your right." He shook with his with a faint, regretful smile. "You are not worthy of your worshippers." He straightened to his full height, calling a blue, crystal-tipped spear into his free hand. It had served him well through the centuries as a focus for his magic, and it doubled as a fighting weapon.

"Dude…please let me go."

Loki laughed. "Mortal stories tell of a savior named Jesus Christ, the son of your god, who died for the sins of mankind, only to rise again. Shall we test the faith of your worshippers?"

The boy was quaking in his designer clothing. "Please…"

Loki cocked his head. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" He drove the spear right through the boy's body. For a moment, it was as if the mortal did not realize what had happened. He kept trying to say something, but could only gurgle as blood filled his throat and dripped from his mouth.

Time seemed to freeze. Loki stared down at the boy in a mixture of horror and malicious glee. This atrocity could not be forgiven. It was killing for the sake of sport. It served no other purpose. Asgardians had a different morality than that of humans, but the All-Father would not forgive this. Trying to kill Thor, trying to destroy Jotunheim, neither had been as irrevocable as the slaying of this boy.

In that blip of a moment between one heartbeat and the next, Loki was a child again, desperately seeking his father's approval. Knowing, even then, that Thor would always outshine him. He would only ever be a shadow. And the malicious sneer on young Thor's face was a prelude to years of subtle wounds that would be delivered to Loki's soul.

He told himself that it was the dust in the air that made his eyes prick with tears.

Time unfroze and screams exploded. The crowd started to scatter. Some stood in wide-eyed horror, watching as their false god bled out. Loki blinked furiously for a moment, and then donned the armor around his soul. The monster, inside and out, that was his salvation/curse.

Loki hoisted the dying mortal into the air so that all could see. "This is what I will do to those who allow themselves to be worshipped as false gods."

Then he threw his head back and screamed at the sky. "What about now, Father? Do I make you proud now? I have embraced the monster you sought to hide in shame. Will you welcome me home with open arms?" Rage finally closed his throat and spittle flew from his locked jaw.

A bullet pinged off of his armor, and Loki's attention snapped back to his surroundings. There was a ring of law officers slowly advancing through the fleeing crowd, guns at ready. The God of Mischief quelled his inner weakness, and hurled the body of the boy singer at them. He followed that with a blast from his spear, blowing the mortals off their feet.

A rush of air was not quite enough warning. Something hit Loki hard in the back, propelling him into the ground. He skidded several feet and crashed into a parked car. A metallic thump to his right told Loki what had hit him. He rolled to his feet and leveled his spear at Iron Man.

"I hated his music too, Grumpy Smurf." The playboy's voice was slightly mocking. "But don't you think impaling him was a little much?"

"Did you ever hear him sing live?" Loki countered. "I went easy on him."

Something else hit him from the side, tumbling him to the pavement once more. Loki lashed out with his spear even as he fell, and was rewarded with a grunt. Ah…the soldier. He jumped back to his feet, spear held ready.

"Nice costume."

The soldier shrugged. "You're one to talk."

Loki saw his target, dressed in her signature black, standing behind Iron Man, beside a harmless looking man with rumpled clothes and messy hair. Could that be…? No. There was no possible way that this unkept man turned into the green rage monster.

"Dr. Banner, would you like to join this fight?"

The messy looking man smiled crookedly, and then went through the most amazing transformation. The green monster literally bulged out of the confines of the man's body, and roared its displeasure. Loki was so fascinated by the transformation that he failed to react in time when the creature lashed out, knocking him into a nearby building.

Two could play that game. Loki pulled himself free of the building and blasted the creature with magic, propelling it backward. A small building fell in on it, and the Hulk did not emerge.

Loki surveyed the remaining heroes. It seemed the rumors had some truth. Thor was nowhere to be seen, and no arrows had been shot at him yet. Loki allowed a vicious smile to cross his face.

"Is that the best you can do?"

He could not have scripted it better. He swatted the attacking Iron Man into Captain America, and they tumbled off to one side. The Black Widow dodged a blast from his staff, and danced closer. Her eyes were fixed on him, her goal clear. Even as Iron Man took to the air, and the soldier jumped to his feet, the Widow ducked under Loki's staff slash and came up within his reach. Her hands shot toward him, impossibly fast, but Loki was faster. He caught her hands, and with a cruel grin, sent the magnified lust spell pulsing into her body.

The Widow gasped, twisting in his grip, then surged forward to wrap her body around his. Loki was nearly knocked off his feet, and had to fend her off as she tried to kiss him. The woman was panting, arms and legs locked shockingly tight around him. If it hadn't been for the armor, he might be in pain. The spell was even more effective than he'd hoped.

Loki looked up, needing to see the reactions of the heroes. Captain America's expression of open-mouthed astonishment was gratifying, and the Hulk hadn't yet resurfaced from the building Loki had swatted him into. Iron Man blazed down out of the sky to land beside the captain. "Tasha what the fuck are you doing?" he yelled.

The Widow groaned, a deep, guttural sound. She could not answer her teammate. Loki looked down at her in fascination. She had burrowed even closer in an attempt to climb inside his skin, but her face was twisted in revulsion. Trying to resist the spell, and what it was forcing her body to do, was sickening her. Even with the spell amped up, the Widow still tried desperately to resist. She didn't want to want him. Loki turned it up even more, and watched, gratified, as the woman shuddered and pressed her face into his shoulder.

"Oh my pet, have patience," he purred, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose into her neck. "I will be happy to entertain you." He smirked at the two dumbfounded men staring at them. "They will never trust you again," he whispered.

The Widow whimpered as she ground herself into his armor.

"Let her go!" Captain America shouted. He took a cautious step forward, but stopped when Loki's staff leveled at his midsection. "Release her," the man called in a softer tone.

Loki held both arms out, to show that he was not restraining the Black Widow. "She is free to go. I am not stopping her."

The captain snarled. "Take your magic off of her."

Loki raised one eyebrow. "What magic? I cannot help it if your teammate has been overcome with lust. I am, after all, quite a fine specimen."

"We dissect specimens around here," the iron one hissed. "You're nothing but a wannabe villain."

Loki sniffed disdainfully and flicked his eyes to the body of the adored singer. "There is nothing 'wannabe' about me, man of iron. I was born a monster. It is only natural to act like one." A low keening noise drew his eyes down to the woman wrapped around him. She was rocking against him, face still twisted in protest. If the spell loosened, even for a second, she would kill him. Her eyes promised that he would suffer untold miseries.

"I know what you would like to do to me," he whispered in her ear. "I see the hatred in your eyes. But you cannot do anything worse to me than my so-called family has already done." He smirked at the two men while running a hand up the Widow's back. She had lost the ability to verbalize words, but her body bucked against his.

Loki uttered a low, completely twisted, laugh. "Have a good day, gentlemen. I will be busy the rest of the day."

Before they could react, he sent himself and the Widow back to his hotel room.

* * *

><p>A simple sleep spell had rendered the Widow unconscious. Loki took the opportunity to bind her to a chair. He had procured lengths of wire, wrapped in firm but flexible plastic. The sadistic bastard within him had scored the plastic coating with hundreds of tiny nicks. It would lightly shred the woman's flesh as soon as she tried to move.<p>

When he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he lifted the sleep spell. The woman's eyes fluttered open slowly, and then snapped wide. She stiffened, and immediately whimpered as the scored cord cut into her skin. She breathed heavily for a few seconds, sweat beading on her face, and then forced herself to relax. Then she looked up at him, face composed in a calm mask.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Loki smirked. "While the possibilities are endless, pet, I plan to stick to the basics. You were not really a part of my plans, but you called attention to yourself." He noticed her swallow and reached out to stroke a finger down her cheek. "Do not worry. While the spell could compel you, I prefer my bed partners willing of their own volition." He leaned down, placing his mouth near her ear. "I had a different type of fun in mind. Something you very richly deserve."

He took his time, drawing it out to several hours, giving back to the Widow every hurt she had visited on his mortal toy. For fun, he added some embellishments of his own. Fingertip bruises on her thighs. Pinch marks that looked like bite marks all over her lovely body. When she was returned to the heroes, she would look like a woman well used.

"You mortals need to learn to not play with a god's toy," he chided as he worked her over. "None of this would have been necessary if you hadn't damaged my latest toy." He thought he saw a flash of understanding in her eyes, but the woman said nothing.

Finally though, he grew bored with it. The Widow was not giving him the satisfaction of crying out, so it was time to end the fun. He turned the lust spell up and watched in satisfaction as the woman writhed in the chair, trying to move toward him. Blood ran freely from under the corded bonds, but the Widow only whimpered.

Loki bent over close to her. "Even I am not so cruel as to leave you in such desperate need." His talented fingers soon brought her to a screaming release so intense that she passed out.

Loki took full advantage of her unconscious state by clouding her memories. Then he transported her to a secluded alley near the headquarters, and released her. Someone would find her later, he knew, wandering the streets in a dazed and confused state. They would bring her in and confine her, since she would not be trusted. Not after throwing herself at a super villain.

It had been an enjoyable two days.

* * *

><p>Okay, it was probably totally over the top, the killing of the mystery musical guest, but I couldn't resist. It was too…theatric. Does anyone know who the singer was?<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to all who chimed in on the identity of the mystery singer who met a sad end! I had a blast writing that part. Hmm…everyone guessed the same performer. Good call. And everyone had the same opinion. Lol!

Thanks to everyone for reading and a huge shout-out to those who have reviewed! It lets me know to keep going. We picked up a lot of readers/reviewers with the last chapter, so welcome everyone! I switched the story over to the new movie Avengers category, since that's where it fits.

* * *

><p>Narcotic painkillers were <em>awesome<em>. Once Darcy learned to adjust to the feeling of her face sliding off of her skull, it was all good. She was operating with only minimal pain while the painkillers were in effect. Even though she didn't have to work, it was nice to have little pain while at home.

The relief from the non-stop pain had her in a lighter mood, and at the same time kept her happily lethargic. She turned on her TV once she was awake for the day, and didn't have the necessary drive to change the channel. When she saw who the performer was for the live Today Show performance, she almost, almost, felt like picking up the remote, but did not. She certainly didn't see what others saw in the singer. Probably because he was too young to be appealing to her.

She thought maybe she was watching a bad B movie when something hit the stage from above, totally destroying it, and throwing Justin Bieber to the ground. That made Darcy want to cheer, but the sound died in her throat when she saw what had hit the stage. It had to be Thor's brother, dressed in that weird Asgardian armor, with a penis-compensating helmet on his head. He was in his natural form – blue skin with raised ridges, and demon-red eyes. Yeah, that was enough to give her the shivers. Thor had described it once, but seeing it was completely different.

Apparently, Loki was not a music fan, because after a few snarling words with the teen idol, the psychotic alien god impaled him with the blue gem tipped spear he was carrying. If Darcy hadn't been drugged out of her mind, she might have been bothered by the sight of the singer being lifted on the end of the spear, blood pouring down on the ground, but as it was, she was only curious what Loki's game was.

Whoever was filming this was freaking insane, she decided when the Avengers arrived on sight. Even though they were assholes, they were impressive to watch. And destructive. At first it seemed as if the heroes had the upper hand, but as soon as Loki blasted the Hulk into a building that fell on top of the green monster, the tide of the battle turned. Iron Man and Captain America went tumbling head over heels, and Darcy couldn't say she wasn't pleased to see them take some lumps.

But the best part was when the Black Widow went after Loki. She moved so fast that Darcy didn't see how anyone could get a jump on her, but Loki was ready for her. There was a flash of light when his hand touched the skin on her attacking hands, and then the Widow seemed to lose her mind.

Darcy knew her mouth was hanging open, watching in astonishment as Natasha wound herself around the psychopath in a very non-lethal way. There was no confusion over what she wanted, and to demonstrate that it was being done of her own free will, Loki held his arms out from his sides. Tasha had plenty of opportunity to escape, but she seemed interested in something far more horizontal. Then the intertwined bodies disappeared.

Darcy knew that Natasha was not acting of her own will, and some little part of her wished for some misery to be visited on the woman.

She spent the whole day monitoring news reports. It wasn't until much later in the day that someone found Natasha wandering in the streets, confused, with a cloudy memory. She was taken into custody by a government agency (S.H.I.E.L.D), and updates ended. But there was a lot of speculation. Darcy wondered too, and felt bad that part of her was so glad that Natasha had come up against something she couldn't beat up.

It was absolutely criminal how much time was devoted to the death of Justin Bieber. What about the regular people that had died that morning? Police officers and innocent bystanders? Almost nothing was said of them. The media was focused on the new super villain who had handed the Avengers an impressive ass-whupping, and the poor teen idol who apparently had irritated him.

It was a shame that Loki had been wearing that ridiculous helmet. She wanted to see his face. Most of the footage was too blurry to get a good look at the tiny bit of face not covered by the helmet, so she only had a vague idea of what he looked like. Blue, red-eyed, and completely maniacal. Except for that one moment right before he was screaming at the sky. In that moment, he looked stunned at his own actions, and lost. So very lost.

Jane had asked Thor, when he first returned from Asgard, if Loki had always been mad. And Thor's reply, before he shared the story about Loki's adoption, had been a shake of the golden head, and a very sad – "It is complicated."

Watching replays of the attack footage, Darcy though that 'complicated' didn't really describe Loki's state of mind. She almost, almost, felt sorry for him. But then she remembered that he had stabbed Clint without any provocation, and chalked her strange feelings up to the narcotics.

Thinking of Clint gave her a little energy. Darcy, still dressed in her schlumpiest clothes with her hair twisted into a messy knot, headed out to the subway. She couldn't _not_ visit Clint. He was her friend, and her sometimes lover, and she was really anxious for him to wake the hell up.

The S.H.I.E.L.D agents guarding the hospital room door did not seem surprised to see her. After she had been retinal scanned and cleared, the shortest one stared at her grimly.

"Officially, I'm supposed to tell you that you are supposed to be the hell at home," he said.

Darcy tried not to grin too loopily. She could hear Coulson's tone in that statement. "But?"

"Unofficially, I'm supposed to ask how you are feeling."

"High as a kite," Darcy responded flippantly. "And relieved. Did you see that Justin Bieber was killed? He can't inflict his live performance on people with real musical tastes anymore."

She pushed past the gaping agents into the hospital room.

Thor would wake up soon, within a day. She could tell by his coloring. It was coming back. He didn't look like he'd been painted white anymore. That was good for the Avengers and Jane. Darcy wasn't quite sure how she felt about the God of Thunder waking up. She was still very angry with him.

But she wasn't there for Thor. She went straight to Clint's bedside. The archer had some color as well. He hadn't regained consciousness yet, according to the agents outside, but he looked closer today than he had yesterday. When he woke up, she knew he would be beating himself up for missing the first fight with Thor's brother. He'd probably also blame himself for whatever had happened to Natasha.

"Hey arrow boy," she greeted. "You're dropping the ball, you know. Sleeping while Thor's crazy brother goes psychotic on national TV. Seriously. He totally fell out of the sky and impaled Justin Bieber. It was classic."

Darcy paused. "That makes me sound like a bad person, doesn't it? But I think of it as helping to prevent the continuing perversion of the younger generation's musical tastes."

She sighed, picking up Clint's limp hand to hold it. Her reasons for wanting him back were completely selfish. But the need for him to return was far beyond her petty reasons, and it seemed Clint wasn't fighting hard enough.

"Tasha has been compromised," she said in a low voice. "By Loki." Darcy hated, absolutely hated, what she was going to say. But she also knew that it was what Clint would feel, and needed to hear. "She's going to need you, Clint. I can't even imagine what that psycho may have done to her. But she's not as unbreakable as she pretends to be. You need to suck it up, and wake up."

She swallowed painfully. "Besides, I've got better things to do during my medical leave than to visit your sorry ass in the hospital. Even though it's a nice ass. Not the best on the team, sorry. I think that's a tossup between Bruce, Steve, or Tony. I like my butts perky, but not too muscular. Thor's ass scares me." Darcy stopped talking and cast a somewhat guilty look at the other occupant of the room. "Sorry Thor, but it's true. Your ass could take down people all on its own."

She looked back down at Clint. "But your ass is still nice. Is it disturbing that I'm talking about your asses when you both are unconscious? It feels like it is disturbing. Did I mention that I am on some kick-ass narcotic painkillers? They've kind of made me happy about everything. I didn't even get upset when Loki was waving around his Bieber-kabob."

Unexpected laughter just spewed out of her mouth at that last comment. Darcy clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn't stop laughing, and it hurt. It hurt right through the haze of her painkillers, but she couldn't stop. And somewhere, in the midst of the more-than slightly hysterical laughter, she realized that tears were streaming down her face. Darcy didn't know why she was crying. Was it for herself? For Clint? For Natasha? Or for the poor fans out there who had watched their idol be brutally slaughtered? She didn't like him, or his music, but she could respect the feelings of the fans.

She was surprised at the keening sound that came with her indrawn breath, between the braying laughter. Why couldn't she stop? She was rocking back and forth, still holding Clint's hand. She could hear the manic sound to her laughter, but couldn't stop.

The door popped open, and the Coulson-imitator frowned at her. Darcy stared back at him with wide eyes. It hurt, and she couldn't breathe, and she didn't know why she couldn't stop. He didn't seem to know what to do, and let the door swing shut.

It went on for minutes before Darcy felt the prick of a needle in her arm. She turned her head, annoyed that she hadn't heard/felt the door open over her wheezing laugh, and met the concerned gaze of a nurse. She wanted to ask what had been in the needle, but suddenly the laughter stopped. She stopped with it as everything went black.

* * *

><p>Darcy slept for hours, and surfaced groggily well after dark. She didn't know where she was, and she was so confused. Nothing looked familiar.<p>

A shadow fell over her, and Darcy looked up to see Jane's worried expression.

"How are you feeling?"

"Confused."

Jane nodded. "You sort of had a 'moment' while visiting Clint. Do you remember?"

Darcy thought about it. It felt like she was wading through cold molasses. "Um…I remember something about a Bieber-kabob. What the hell is that?"

Jane swallowed. "Loki attacked this morning. He killed Justin Bieber."

Oh. Now she remembered. A little more than she wanted to. "I started laughing. And crying. I couldn't stop."

Jane nodded. "They sedated you." She frowned. "They wanted to keep you for observation, but Coulson got them to release you, and I brought you back to your place. You're not supposed to be out and about, you know."

Darcy sighed. "I know. But I couldn't not visit Clint. You know?"

Her friend smiled. "I know. I still hold out hope for someday." She reached down to pat Darcy's hand. "Do you feel up to sitting up?"

Darcy answered that by cautiously sitting up. Pain sang along her nerve endings. Apparently, she'd been too long without a painkiller. She looked around for her bag, and Jane lifted it off the floor for her. She handed it to Darcy, along with a glass of water. Darcy quickly found her pills and popped one.

Jane was watching her very closely. "Do you know about Natasha?"

Darcy finished off the glass of water, and stared into it thoughtfully. "She got caught by a spell, it looked like. She was all over Loki, and not in a 'I'm gonna kick your ass' kind of way. They found her wandering around in the streets later." She looked up at Jane. "He did something bad to her, didn't he?"

Jane bit her lip and looked away. "I was very angry at her, for what she did to you. But I don't think anyone deserves to have their will stripped away like that. It…it seems like Loki…used her."

Darcy couldn't picture Natasha being able to cope with that. She always seemed so untouchable, and to have someone take that away from her…she really would need Clint's help to survive.

"I told Clint about it," she said softly, staring down at her hands. "I told him that Natasha would need him, and that he had to wake up. I told him she was compromised."

Jane reached out to awkwardly hug her. "That was…more than she deserves, after what she did to you. It was very noble of you."

Darcy didn't want to think about it too much. "It'll bring him back faster than anything else. Natasha is everything to him." She wasn't sure why the bitter edge had crept into her voice. Maybe because she wanted to be that important to someone, and she knew that it wouldn't be Clint. He could only think of Natasha. And she held him at arm's length without ever spurning him, keeping him forever hoping…

Jane released her and sat back. "That's why you and Clint don't work." She sighed heavily.

"Can't compete with the revered goddess," Darcy said, with even more bitterness. "He tried to get away from her, when we dated, but the idea of having her has consumed him."

Jane was angry suddenly, spots of color appearing on her cheeks, eyes throwing out fire. "Then he should stop using you to satisfy his physical needs!"

Darcy shrugged, wincing with the pain. "We have fun together." She stared down at her hands. "Besides, if it weren't for him, who would I have? The fanboys?" Tears were threatening again, but at least that maniacal laugh hadn't yet resurfaced. This wasn't what she had pictured for her life when she had moved to New York. "Why would I turn down whatever I can get from Clint? He's larger than life. Normally, someone like him wouldn't even see someone like me. So I take advantage of whatever I can get, even though I know that I'm not the one he wants." Her voice broke a little at the end. She didn't like thinking this through. She preferred to keep her delusions of being a goddess to the fanboys. A goddess had no need for a partner. She was generous enough to grant her time and body to those who would worship her, and enjoy her own rare moments of worshipping a hero (Clint) or bad boy type (Luke).

She wouldn't meet Jane's eyes. She didn't want to see the pity she knew would be in them.

"You deserve better than that," the astrophysicist said softly.

"Hold on for something better and always be alone, you mean? No thanks. I like my moments." Darcy smiled sadly down at her hands. "I'm good now, Jane. You should probably get ready for Thor to wake up. He looks much better. He's gonna need you, to help deal with the fact that his brother has turned into a raging psychopath."

Jane was persistent, but in the end, Darcy finally succeeded in convincing her to leave. She wanted to be alone right now. She didn't want Jane's pitying eyes watching her, wondering when she was going to break again. She didn't want any more questions that laid her soul bare. She just wanted to exist in a pleasant narcotic haze.

Time didn't really have much meaning when you were drugged insensible. It passed quickly, but also very slowly. Sleep came and went when the body was overwhelmed, and the mind stayed in its happy place. Nothing would affect her zen.

Except maybe a phone call from a hysterically excited/relieved Jane, that Thor had woken up. Apparently, it was a day later. Darcy opted against going out, because she didn't care about Thor right now. He had watched her get hurt and done nothing to prevent it because he was so deep inside himself with bad feelings, all because of his brother. So she didn't care that he was awake (even though she really did). She was waiting for Clint to wake up.

She wasn't sure why she was still anxious for Clint to wake. It wouldn't make a difference. He would wake, and his first thought would be of Natasha. Darcy might come in as an afterthought if she was very, very lucky, but Clint would be desperate to get to Natasha. And then, like Rogers had done, Clint would try to justify why Natasha had gone crazy all over her. And her sympathetic allies would be down to one – Jane. Jane would be too busy with Thor to notice that Darcy was drowning in a sea of self revulsion and loneliness. It would be good times.

Having a week off from the craziness of working for S.H.I.E.L.D made her even more determined to leave. She didn't fit in. She wasn't a crazy super S.H.I.E.L.D agent, or a hero type with mad skills. Like the position of the Darcy Zone, she was stuck in the middle, by herself. So she'd dated, and still occasionally boinked, an Avenger. It didn't make her fit in.

When her phone rang again, an hour/day/week later (she really didn't know at this point), Darcy was very tempted not to answer it. But her voice was growing rusty with disuse, and one could only talk to the TV so many times before losing what was left of one's mind.

"Hello Darcy."

She had not been expecting a call from Luke. "Hi there," she greeted, a little loopily.

"I have not seen you for the past two days." His voice was like butter, gliding over her skin and settling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. "I was looking for you."

"I'm off work for a week, due to my injuries," she answered. "I've just been hanging out in my apartment, drugging myself into a stupor and watching the news."

"Why hide at home when there are other, much more pleasurable things, you could be doing?"

Even under the influence of narcotic painkillers, that voice went straight to her happy place and woke it up. But, doctor's orders and all. "Honestly Luke, I'm in too much pain to even think of anything pleasurable. And my doctor said not for at least a week."

His voice was amused. "Do you obey without question?"

She sighed. He was the classic bad boy when it came to an authority of any kind, it seemed. "I try to, when it involves my health."

"It did not seem to bother you the other night. As I recall, you were quite enthusiastic."

Darcy flushed. "I think I was a little out of my head the other night, Luke. I don't usually attack men in elevators."

"Pity," he said softly. "I quite enjoyed that little display. You know where I am located?"

"Yes."

"I will leave it up to you, then. If you wish to be alone, do nothing. But if you want some fun times – come to me."

* * *

><p>Luke looked particularly smug when he opened the door to his hotel room. "Defying doctor's orders?"<p>

Darcy pushed him back into the hotel room. "I've never been very good at following orders," she admitted.

She had chosen well, it seemed. Pain was not an issue all night, even after she knew that the painkillers had worn off. But then again, maybe that was just because she had so many other things to concentrate on. Like the amazing talents of the man who pleasured her on all levels.

He was tireless, inventive, and a little kinky. Darcy did things with him that she had never done before, and wouldn't have imagined herself doing. It was wonderful to be pain free and overloaded with pleasure. He was going to wear her out if he kept this up. And from the feel of things, he was having no problems keeping things up.

"I need to rest," she told him after the third time. She was completely wrung out, and suspected that she would have very sore muscles the next day.

Luke reclined on the bed. How the hell did he appear so awake and alert? Seriously? If Darcy could bottle whatever it was, she would be rich. Men would literally kill for it – the ability to have repeated orgasms and still be able to function.

She flipped over onto her stomach and propped her head on his ribs. "You are amazing, you know that?"

"Of course. Tell me more." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You are a sex god," Darcy murmured. His skin was cool, which was very surprising given the energetic bout they had just finished. She rubbed her cheek on his ribs, rewarded with a little shudder.

A cool hand fell on her shoulder. "You flatter me, Darcy. I am…adequate."

"If you were _only_ adequate, I wouldn't have blown off my doctor's orders," she told him. Her hand slid across his abdomen teasingly. She couldn't decide if he was fishing for more compliments, or if he truly had an inferiority complex. "Did you see the news coverage of the attack?"

His muscles stiffened under her fingers. "Some," he admitted. "They seemed overly concerned with the death of the young man."

"Yeah, the media does that all the time. They sensationalize death and darkness and totally cater to glory hounds." Darcy grimaced.

Luke propped his head up so he could stare down at her. "What did you think of the villain?"

Hmmm….should she answer honestly? Or would that be too weird for Luke to handle. Then again, he had reams of bad feelings inside of him, so he might just understand.

Darcy stared into his green eyes. "I thought that he was conflicted and tortured, and I honestly felt a little bad for him."

She felt Luke twitch under her fingers again. "Why? You did not think him a monster?"

She shrugged. "He's done monstrous things, obviously. I mean, I know Bieber was an awful performer, but I don't think he deserved to be impaled. But…Loki looked so sad. Like he'd crossed a line that he didn't really mean to. I…I just really wanted to hug him, because he looked like he needed it. Sure, he was doing the maniacal laugh thing, and the posturing, but there were moments where he seemed almost desperate, like he hadn't been hugged as a child, and this was the only way he knew of to get attention." Thor had speculated on their childhood a couple of times, usually after drinking heavily, and he had always been regretful that he had poked fun at and bullied his younger brother. He was the golden prince, and Loki was the dark one, the freak, that should be hidden away so he didn't disturb others.

For a moment, Luke looked sad – lonely and vulnerable. His eyes widened and his lips, usually twisted in a smirk, parted in an O of surprise. She could feel him tremble a little. "You…what of his appearance? He literally is a monster."

She shrugged, shoulders moving against his side in a pleasant friction. "He looks different. That doesn't automatically make him a monster. What he's doing is labeling him a monster." She shrugged again. "Besides, blue skin is kinda hot, to me at least. It's not really about appearance. My best friend growing up, Madison, started dating this guy in college who was….stunning. Everyone, male and female, swooned when he was around because he was like the poster child for physical perfection. Maddy could never understand why he dated her, because while she was pretty, she didn't come close to being as physically perfect as he was."

Luke looked fascinated. Darcy idly wondered if he had ever watched soap operas. It seemed like he could really get into the twisted plots they presented. "What happened?" he asked intently.

Why had she even brought this up? It still hurt to think about. Darcy lowered her head until her forehead was pressed against Luke's side. "He was a complete ass. He dumped her after a few months, telling her that he had been doing research for an acting role, trying to find out how a plain Jane type would react when dating such a perfect physical specimen. It completely shattered her self esteem. She doesn't go outside, can't work, won't socialize with people she was once friends with, because she's so embarrassed at being used like that." Her hand curled into a fist on top of Luke's abdomen. "That's a monster. Someone who deliberately tries to hurt people because he feels that he's above everyone else."

She could still see Maddy's face the day it had happened, twisted into a desperate mask of self loathing. She had been on suicide watch for months after that. Now she was a shell. A living husk of a person that sat in a darkened room and waited to die. "If I could get away with it, I would hunt him down and make him suffer. I would destroy his perfect face and body and make him beg for death, but I wouldn't grant it." She smiled viciously, a few tears escaping the corner of her eyes. "I would want him to live on with his perfection destroyed."

"So appearance is not that important to you?" Luke's voice seemed a little shaky, but Darcy didn't raise her head to look at him.

"Not really. Hell, I've entertained fan boys for over a year now. Most of them aren't that much to look at. It doesn't matter." She snorted. "I'd take Loki on a date any day. You know, as long as he didn't have any sharp metal objects with him at the time."

Luke was quiet for a long time after that, and Darcy thought that maybe he'd dropped off to sleep. But it seemed that was not the case as, sometime later, he pulled her up to his face level, pinned her beneath him, and proceeded to ravage her until she went hoarse with screaming from the pleasure of it. He didn't say a word during the entire exchange, but his eyes were a little wild, and for the first time, it was all about her. He didn't ask to be worshipped, he didn't fish for compliments, he just completely and thoroughly ravaged her.

After he finished with her, he collapsed to sprawl partially on top of her, and Darcy, nerve endings still singing in joy, gave up the fight to stay conscious. It was nice to plummet into sleep with her lover holding her possessively. That usually didn't happen.

* * *

><p>Darcy honestly didn't expect to wake up still tangled around Luke. He had been holding her at arm's length, keeping things casual, and she expected that he would have already left for work in the morning. But when she swam out of dreamland, she was still pinned down. His head was nestled between her breasts, and his legs were wound around hers. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to see him asleep before, and he looked fragile, like a lost little boy. The hardness, the darkness that seemed an inherent part of him, was missing when he slept. He almost looked like he was at peace.<p>

She reached down to stroke a hand through his hair, and he nuzzled at her chest with a soft sigh. Darcy tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. This was bad. She could completely fall for this guy, with his tireless and amazing sexual prowess, and his deep emotional wounding from his family's betrayal. It would only end in hurt for her, she was sure of that, because there was a part of him that couldn't be touched. She suspected it was bottled up underneath all the anger at his family, and he wouldn't let anyone that far inside.

When Luke woke, it was sudden and startling. One moment she was stroking his hair, and the next moment he was sitting up with a loud, indrawn breath, eyes wild as he glanced from side to side. Darcy didn't move. She had seen Clint wake up often enough in the same state. He didn't know where he was or what situation he was in for a moment, and if she seemed remotely threatening…it could end poorly for her. So she didn't move, allowing Luke to blink, shake his head, and slowly relax, tension ebbing from his muscles.

He finally looked down to meet her eyes, and smiled slowly. "Bad dreams," he admitted softly. "Sorry if I scared you."

"I've seen worse wakeups," Darcy assured.

He lowered himself back to the bed, but flipped over onto his back beside her. "You do not have to be at work all week?"

"Nope."

"Stay with me then. My schedule has been very hectic lately, and I could use some time off in pleasurable company."

Darcy wanted to quell the hopeful flutter in her stomach. "I could. I'd need to get some more clothes though."

He smirked at her. "I have a few things to finish up. Grab what you need, and we can meet back here around noon?"

"Sounds good." Darcy sat up and frowned. "But promise me you won't shred any more panties, okay?"

The pair she'd been wearing last night had annoyed Luke, and he'd yanked them off, the thin material easily separating. She'd only just prevented the bra from suffering the same fate by taking it off before he could rip it off.

Luke's expression was somewhat naughty. "I make no promises about your panties," he told her. "If they are in my way, they may be destroyed."

* * *

><p>Darcy gathered some clothes and necessities from her apartment, stuffing them into a bag. She was starting to get sore from the exertions of the night before, and pain was starting to return from her previous injuries. It was so strange that there was no pain when she was with Luke. But there wasn't.<p>

She swung by the hospital to visit with Clint. He was really looking much better, and she thought he would have to wake up soon.

"Looking better, arrow boy," she told him. "I may not be back to visit for a few days, if you're even still here. Luke, that fanboy I told you about, he invited me to stay with him for a few days. It's getting kind of intense. I really like him. He scares me a little, with his anger and his darkness, but he's vulnerable too. And no offense, but he's a sex god. Damn. The man can go all night and not even look tired."

Darcy shook herself. "Anyhow…wake up, Clint. Natasha needs you. Your teammates need you." She bent over to press a chaste kiss to his brow, and then straightened. "Later, arrow boy. Next time I see ya, it better be when you're awake."

* * *

><p>I'll be working on an update for Vodka next, so the next chapter here may be a few weeks. Clint wakes up – 'nuff said.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Clint's POV in this chapter.

* * *

><p>"Sir you haven't been discharged. You can't leave." The nurse was trying to appear stern, but since she was about 20 years younger than her irate patient, the effect was completely lost.<p>

Clint Barton snorted. "Watch me, lady. Who the hell dressed me in this getup?" He plucked at the front of his hospital gown. He could feel the draft in the back, and the fact that he was buck naked underneath the flimsy pale blue gown.

"Sir please. You'll tear your stitches out."

"Nah. They'll be fine. I gotta get out of here. Where the hell are my clothes?" He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wiggling his toes to return feeling.

She shrugged helplessly. "What you came in with was ruined, because of the blood."

He turned a very frustrated stare on the girl. "Then get me some other clothes, unless you prefer me strolling down the halls with my junk hanging out."

She fled, but Clint saw salvation through the open door. There were S.H.I.E.L.D agents outside. He didn't know why, but he wasn't going to question it. Rising to his feet, he pulled a sheet from the bed, gingerly wrapping it around his waist. He winced as he felt the pull of his stitches. The bastard had come close to ending him for good.

He was stunned to find his legs weak when he strode toward the door. Clint swayed a little, and had to brace his hand against the wall. He snarled in irritation. He didn't have time for this.

"Agents report," he snapped, pushing the door open. "Why are you stationed here?"

He was expecting newbies, and was completely surprised to find seasoned agents that he personally knew stationed outside his room. They snapped to attention at his appearance, since he was not only an Avenger, but a senior agent as well.

"Agent Barton, welcome back." The youngest agent, Kletzky, smiled at him. "You had a close call, sir."

"Kletzky. I need to get back to headquarters ASAP. Get me clothes."

The man blinked at his abrupt tone. "Uh…we have to have a doctor look at you, sign discharge papers…" He trailed off at Clint's glare. "Or we can get you clothes."

Minutes later, Clint was pulling on ill-fitting clothes from the gift shop. He ignored the occasional swirls in front of his eyes, and the woozy feeling that came with it. He didn't have time for this.

Kletzky noticed. "Barton, I don't think you're okay to get out of here."

"Don't have that option, Kletzky. There's some serious shit going down, and I owe that smirking blue bastard." He swayed again, steadying himself against the wall.

One of the other agents stepped forward to head off hospital personnel while Clint finished dressing. It was hell trying to get a shirt on, and he knew he wouldn't be able to draw a bow for awhile. Guns were so limited, but he was going to have to use them for awhile.

Clint felt better, less hazy, after the walk out of the hospital. There was a black SUV waiting to take him to headquarters. It couldn't go fast enough. He knew time was short.

Word traveled ahead of them, and getting through the fancrowd was hell. The fans crowded forward, hands reaching out to pat the sides of the SUV, peering into the heavily tinted windows, hoping to see the recovered hero. Clint tolerated the slow creep for about thirty seconds before he pushed the SUV door open and stood up.

"Move people!" he bellowed. "I don't have time for a welcoming committee!"

The fans scattered with cheers, allowing the SUV to resume normal speed. Clint sat down and closed the door. He pressed a hand to his side and exhaled carefully. Damn that hurt.

The welcoming committee inside was boisterous, led by a grinning God of Thunder. "Clint Barton! You have regained consciousness!"

Rogers was right behind Thor, smiling. "It's good to see you up and about, Clint." He reached out to pump Clint's hand in welcome.

Banner and Stark, behind the lead two, were both smiling. Stark in his cocky, everybody-wants-to-be-me way, and Banner in his more reserved fashion. "We're glad you made it," the scientist told Clint.

"Thanks." Barton looked around, seeing Coulson and Fury approaching, and other agents gathering. "Where's Darcy?"

Stark actually sputtered. "Darcy? What about Natasha, your partner?"

Clint frowned. "I'll talk to Tasha later. Where is Darcy? Has she come back to work yet?"

It was Coulson who shook his head with some confusion. "No Agent Barton. She was supposed to return today, but she called to say she wouldn't be in. No reason given."

Clint stared at his boss for a moment, than stalked away toward his locker room. He suited up with some difficulty, but felt much better with the Kevlar vest supporting him. He tried an experimental bow draw, and it wasn't too bad. It would have to do.

Rogers was waiting for him outside the locker room, also suited up, arms folded across his chest. "Barton – what are you doing?"

Clint stepped around him. "Going to get Darcy."

"What about Tasha?"

He was tired of hearing it. He was an idiot and apparently everyone else had known he was an idiot and still expected him to be that way. Almost dying had a way of illuminating the mistakes you've made, and seeing his obsession in the harsh light of mortality had been a wake up call. Clint loved Natasha. That would never go away. But she would never love him back, at least not in the way he wanted her to, and he was damned if he would waste any more of his life in pursuit of her.

"I'll talk to Tasha later."

He would have kept going, but found himself surrounded by Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D agents. They all looked a little edgy, with hands close to weapons, like he had lost his mind or something.

Fury was trying to be gentle. "Barton, you were out for over a week. You almost died from a combination of being stabbed, losing blood, and being saturated by alien death magic. Your partner, Agent Romanoff, was kidnapped, and compromised by alien magic mind control. She's in lockup, until we are sure she can be trusted. Right now, I'm not sure if we can trust you. You and your partner are both attacked and compromised by Loki, and your only concern is with Lewis? She is unimportant in the grand scheme of things."

Clint shook his head. "And everyone here has gone out of their way to reinforce that belief to her." He stabbed an angry finger out toward Thor and Stark. "You two watched Natasha beat the shit out of her and you did nothing! It doesn't surprise me coming from Stark, but Thor? You're supposed to be her friend. It's a shame none of you get it."

"Get what, Agent Barton?" Fury scowled. He didn't like having questions unanswered.

"Tasha attacked Darcy because she thought that Darcy was the reason I was attacked. She wasn't wrong."

Everyone stopped. A dropping pin could have been heard in the resulting silence. Clint almost wanted to smile at their dumbfounded expressions.

"Explain," Thor said finally. "You were attacked by Loki, my brother. He wishes to demoralize us, and me, by eliminating you one by one."

"He followed me from Darcy's place," Clint explained. "I picked up on the tail right away, but he kept changing faces. I thought I had a gang following me because of all the different faces. When I confronted him, he went blue. He didn't say one word to me about the Avengers, because he didn't know who I was. He attacked me because I was 'playing with his toy' as he said. Because I was with Darcy."

Jane had arrived and stood at Thor's side. "What are you talking about, Clint? Darcy hadn't been with anyone but you for about a month."

"Right. Because he _turned her down_ at first. I'm guessing he had too many plans he wanted to put into play first, but he had already chosen her. And I was messing with what he had chosen." Clint shook his head. "Look, this is wasting time. Darcy talked to me all the time while I was out. And I listened. As soon as the rumors started that Thor and I were out, Loki made his move on Darcy. Do you really think it's a coincidence that after Tasha beat up on Darcy, Loki targeted her?"

Thor's brow wrinkled thoughtfully. "Loki was not one to share his toys. He became very possessive of them. And the heavens help anyone who broke one of his toys."

Jane turned on him and punched him in the stomach with everything she had. Thor only managed to look surprised. Jane could not hurt him physically.

The astrophysicist was angry. "Darcy is not a toy, Thor."

Rogers shook his head. "We didn't see it. I guess because no one really listens to Darcy so she stopped talking to us. Except for you, Clint. And Jane. Jane? Did she say anything else that was useful about this guy? Clint? Does Darcy know who he is?"

Both Jane and Clint shook their heads. "Not that she ever mentioned," Jane mused. "She called him Luke. She said he was dark inside, conflicted. He had had a huge fallout with his family, especially his brother." Jane gasped and smacked a hand over her mouth, eyes moving to look at Thor.

The golden head dropped, and the God of Thunder's shoulders slumped. "We did this to him then."

Clint turned to look at Jane. "She didn't tell me that much. Mostly she talked about how he turned her down, and then was waiting for her the one day, the day I was stabbed. She said she went a little crazy around him, but she couldn't help herself, and he was a tireless sex god." Clint frowned. That had been a blow to the ego. Darcy had left no doubts about who was better in the sack. But then again, how could a mere mortal man hope to compete with a tireless god?

Barton visibly shook himself. "Anyhow, when she talked to me, I could always hear how lonely she was and how close to the edge she was. She kept asking me to come back, because she needed me to be around to talk to. Because Jane and I were the only ones she could talk to. Then she told me about what happened to Natasha, and told me I had to come back for Natasha. The last time she visited, she didn't say anything about herself, other than she was going to stay with 'Luke' for a few days. She didn't need me anymore. She had 'Luke'." Clint frowned. Darcy had sounded so desperately lonely and wounded at first. She needed Clint to come back so he could help soothe over the hurts. But then suddenly she didn't need him anymore. More than anything, that had drawn him back. The realization that 'Luke' and Loki were one and the same, and that Thor's brother was using her hard, and would probably kill her when he was done with her had drawn Clint from his peaceful rest.

Clint turned to Thor. "I know Darcy uses her cover story with all fanboys. She doesn't tell anyone about being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent or working with the Avengers. There's a very good chance that Loki doesn't know she's involved with us. What will he do if he finds out?"

Thor flinched. "It will not go well for Darcy if he does. Right now, he is using her to satisfy physical needs. It…it would give him a great deal of twisted pleasure to use her against us. To subvert her, and send her to spy or sabotage. To flaunt what he has done to her in front of all of us."

Stark broke the moment. "We get the idea. So we attack? Where? Where does Loki stay when he's not impaling teenage idols?"

Jane cursed suddenly, loudly and inventively, drawing a horrified stare from Thor, and shocked looks from everyone else. "I should have made her tell me where he was! She…" the astrophysicist stopped, flushing slightly. "She freaked out a little after her first night with him. She's always careful with the fanboys, or any guy. But she hadn't been careful with 'Luke'. She hadn't even thought about it. I asked her if she could get in touch with him, and she said she knew where he was staying. FUCK! Why didn't I ask her where?"

Thor patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Because you had no suspicions that Darcy was dallying with my brother."

"Will he kill her?" Clint looked up at the blond god.

Thor hung his head. "I would have said no, once. But now I do not know. Loki is no longer the brother I once knew. He has been driven mad. Jealousy and hatred have consumed him. And I know not what happened to him after his fall from the Bifrost. He should have died."

"It would have been better for the world if he had," Rogers snapped. He turned to Clint. "Call her. Tell her you've woken up and want to see her. That will give us a fair idea of how much control he has over her."

That was a good idea. Clint pulled his cell phone from a pocket and dialed Darcy's number. It went straight to voicemail, so he left a rambling, confused message, as if he had just woken. He had been discharged, and was at headquarters in their care.

He clicked his phone closed. "Could you trace it?"

Coulson shook his head. "The phone isn't on."

"Damn it." Clint squeezed his cell phone until his knuckles turned white. He didn't like the feeling of weakness in his hands. His whole body felt weak, and there was a deep throbbing pain in his midsection. His balance was fuckall and his visual acuity was off. But worse than all of that was the deep feeling of helplessness because Darcy was in a shitload of trouble, and she had no idea. She was the plaything for a mad god. That couldn't end well for her.

Coulson issued an order for someone to go to Darcy's apartment, and stared them all down when Clint uttered a wordless protest.

"You are not mobilizing until we have a location."

"You're not mobilizing at all," Fury corrected. He glared at them as everyone turned to look. "If you mobilize and attack him, Loki will kill her. As nastily as possible. Because you have the audacity to think you can take her away from him."

Thor nodded. "He is correct. Loki is behaving like a child having a tantrum right now. He will destroy his 'toy' before he allows us to take her."

Jane punched him again. "Stop calling her a toy, Thor." She pulled her punching hand back and cradled it in her other hand.

He blinked down at his woman. "That is how he referred to her to Clint Barton. So that is how he thinks of her. Loki is very possessive of his toys. If he thinks that we are coming to save her, he may very well kill her, or hide her away where we cannot find her."

Clint considered it. "Challenge him. He wants a piece of you, right? So challenge him. Do a press conference. Or light up a building with lightning. He'll know what that's all about." He nodded at Thor's dawning comprehension. "Call him out and we draw Darcy out to us."

Rogers nodded. "Banner, Stark – you're with Thor. Clint and I will secure Darcy." He hesitated. "What about Natasha?"

Fury shook his head. "We're still not sure if she's free of Loki's influence. Until we are certain of that, she's not going anywhere."

Clint felt a little guilty about that, but he had to be sure Darcy was safe before he started worrying about his partner. Natasha was tough. She could handle a few days of being under suspicion.

"Stark?" Thor asked. "Can you arrange for a press conference? I will call out my brother."

Stark nodded and went for his phone. Clint tuned it out. His focus was Darcy. Let Thor do whatever he had to in order to pull Loki out into the open. Clint's only concern was getting Darcy away from the mad god. She wouldn't like it, since she would be in lockup until they determined if she was herself. And he couldn't even predict her reaction when she found out she'd been dallying (Thor's word, which was so much nicer than 'fucking') with Loki.

Stark had his press conference in less than an hour. Clint watched from the sidelines as the billionaire said a few words about the recent Loki attack, and then handed things over to Thor. The God of Thunder was still relatively uncomfortable with technology, but he looked very confident at the moment.

"Loki – I know that you are out there somewhere, within this city. You have done terrible things in your short time here. You must take responsibility for the terrible things you have done."

He grew very eloquent, gesturing with his hammer, as he questioned Loki's courage and manhood. At the end of his impassioned speech, he named a location, and insinuated that he knew he would wait there in vain, since Loki was a complete coward.

Rogers, standing beside Clint with his arms folded, winced. "Well that's gonna make Loki angry."

"Angry is good," Clint replied. "It means less attention to focus on Darcy, and a better chance of pulling him out to fight."

Thor, Stark and Banner quickly made their departure. Clint only paced nervously. When Loki's presence was confirmed at the battle site, he would attempt to reach Darcy by phone again.

But even before Stark radioed in to confirm Loki's presence, Clint's cell phone was playing Darcy's ring tone. He snatched the phone open, and forced himself to answer sleepily.

"Darce?"

"Clint, hey! Ohmigod, it's so good to hear your voice."

"Yours too," he mumbled. "You okay? They said you got roughed up a little."

"I'm fine." She sounded surprised when she said it. Surprised that she was okay, or surprised that he was asking?

"I could…I could use some help if you're available." Clint tried to sound as pathetic as possible, knowing it would pull her in.

"I…I don't know, Clint. I mean, you have plenty of help there, don't you?"

"Have you ever seen Stark's bedside personality? It's even worse than his normal one." Clint faked a hiss of pain. "Besides, I could use a sympathetic ear, you know?"

She sighed deeply. "I didn't really want to come back, Clint. I hate that place."

"I know. But if you don't come back, they'll just send someone after you. You know too much to just disappear. Come in and talk to Fury and Coulson about options. They're not _completely_ unreasonable."

She laughed quietly. "All right. I'll be there shortly. You owe me, Barton."

"I'll pay up, princess. Don't doubt that."

Rogers was just finishing confirming Loki's arrival at the battle site and he tilted his head at Clint. "You got her?"

Clint nodded. "I got her. She's gonna hate me when she figures it out."

The captain grimaced. "Ease her into it. See what information you can get about him. We'll call a lockdown after she's here, so she can't leave. Let's set the scene. Get you into a bed looking helpless."

"Already prepared," Coulson assured. "I would suggest taking off the Kevlar, Agent Barton. You're supposed to be an invalid still."

Clint grumbled, but gingerly removed the vest as he followed Coulson to one of the medical rooms in the facility. He arranged himself in the bed to look as pathetic as possible, and waited. As soon as they confirmed Darcy's presence, the all clear would be sent to Stark, who would hopefully be able to get Thor to back off.

Coulson poked his head in the room. "She just hit the elevator. As soon as she's on the floor, we're sending the all clear."

Clint nodded. "Go easy on her, after."

Coulson seemed to soften a little. "I'll do my best. She's been through a lot, and none of it has been her fault." He withdrew.

Rogers was on standby to go help against Loki if necessary, since Darcy had come to them and didn't need to be retrieved. He was pacing anxiously inside Clint's makeshift room, clearly itching for some type of action.

The all clear signal was given, sounding as a notification on Rogers' phone. He stilled his pacing, and waited for word from Stark.

Coulson poked his head into the room again. "Agent Barton, you have a visitor."

Clint looked up, eyes half lidded as if he were still fighting off being in a coma, and saw Darcy standing in the doorway, biting her lip. A blinding anger swept through him at the sight that greeted him. She _looked_ like she'd been used hard. She'd dropped at least ten pounds since the last time he'd seen her, and there were dark circles under her eyes. The bruising she'd suffered at Natasha's hands was fading, but still visible along one side of her face. She stood tentatively, as if it hurt to do so.

"Hey Darce," he greeted sluggishly.

She smiled widely. "Hey Clint! It's so good to see you awake again." She entered the room and crossed to his bedside. Behind her, Clint watched Coulson jerk his head at Rogers, who swiftly departed.

Darcy settled on the edge of his bed. "You look really good," she told him. "How do you feel?"

"Weak," he answered, which wasn't a lie. "Vulnerable."

She took his closest hand, holding it absently. "You were lucky, Clint. You almost died."

"So they tell me." He squeezed her hand. "You don't look the greatest, Darce. Not sleeping well?"

She laughed nervously. "Not given much time to sleep. Luke, my new fanboy conquest, is pretty much a sex addict. He can't get enough."

"He doesn't deserve you." Clint almost snarled the words, but forced himself to keep playing the role he had chosen. He lifted their conjoined hands to touch the bruised side of her face. "I'm sorry this happened."

She shrugged. "You didn't do it. Don't be sorry."

"But it happened because of me, didn't it?"

Darcy glanced away. "That's just another reason in a long list of why I hate this place. Why did Thor challenge Loki, Clint? I know Thor doesn't really want to hurt him, but I think Loki really wants to hurt Thor."

If she only knew… "Thor was pissed that Loki was targeting the rest of the Avengers. He thinks it's the coward's way. So he challenged him."

Darcy shook her head. "That's not going to go well. Loki is very unstable, and very powerful, from all of Thor's descriptions. They're probably about evenly matched."

"Banner and Stark went with him."

She brightened a little. "That's good. The three of them should be able to subdue Loki without too much damage to themselves."

Clint was torn. She didn't know who she was with. Loki had managed to keep it a secret, apparently. "They should, yes. Then they can lock his crazy ass away somewhere he can't hurt others."

Her smile was a little sad. "I wish Thor would just talk to him. I thought Loki looked really lonely on TV last week."

"You mean when he killed Bieber?" Clint didn't want her to forget that the man was a raging psychopath.

"Yeah, then. He looked so lost." She sighed deeply.

Clint was trying to think of the best way to reply, when Coulson poked his head in the door again. "We're in lockdown here until Loki is taken into custody. He's made several threats against the agency, and the Avengers, so no one is leaving. Lewis – come see me after you're done here." He ducked back out.

Darcy's face was frozen in trepidation. "I can't stay here, Clint. Luke had some business to take care of, but he's expecting me to be there when he gets done."

It took every bit of self control that Clint had to keep his expression from betraying anything. "Call him and let him know that you're stuck for now. You can't leave, Darcy. You'll be a target to Loki, and he won't hesitate to use you."

She shook her head, as if shaking off a fog. "Clint…I can't."

He squeezed her hand. "Can't what, sweetheart? Can't stay? Not even to help nurse me back to health? You know I'm not a good patient."

Darcy laughed. "You're horrible, Clint! I remember when you tore the tendon in your ankle. They had to keep you sedated to keep you off your feet."

He shrugged. "I don't like feeling helpless." He pulled out his best puppy dog face, and watched Darcy just melt.

She threw her free hand up in surrender. "Fine. You win. I'll call Luke and let him know."

Clint watched carefully as she stepped out of the room and made a quick call. It sounded like she was leaving a voicemail. She returned quickly enough, and offered Clint a tremulous smile.

"So, Barton…"

They talked quietly until the others returned from their tangle with Loki. Clint had to wince, because it seemed that Loki had not been pleased to be called a coward. Stark had to replace half of the Iron Man suit, Banner was out cold, and Thor was slightly scorched. Rogers had met them en route, so he still looked fresh. And worried. He came right to Clint's room.

"Darcy," he greeted. "Clint."

"They look like hell," Darcy noted, jerking her head at the others.

Rogers frowned. "Loki was…not happy. It's going to get worse before it gets better." He stared blankly at a wall. "Get better as fast as you can, Clint, because we're going to need you."

He nodded at them, and left Clint and Darcy to their own thoughts.

"Clint…I'm scared." Darcy reached down to hold Clint's hand again. "Is there any reasoning with him? Loki, I mean."

"I don't think so, sweetheart. He's totally insane, and we are nothing to him." Clint frowned. He didn't want to keep deceiving her, but it might be the kindest thing for her right now. He tried a smile. "So…tell me about him. It sounds like you're…invested."

Listening to her gush about 'Luke', and watching her dreamy expressions, was the hardest thing Clint had ever done in his life.

* * *

><p>Next chapter: Loki finds out that Darcy is being held at Avengers headquarters. Game on.<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Warning: character death, major angst

Thank you so much to all who have read and reviewed! I love hearing from you, and you've helped me keep faith in this story. I was going to abandon it after Chapter 4, but then I went back and read the reviews, and that helped me move past a tough block. I can't say how much I appreciate the reviews. Thank you.

I actually wrote a lot of the fight scene before even starting this story. It was a scene in my head, and then the story happened when I had to create a back story for the fight scene. I hope you enjoy. This was intense. The story itself is almost over. I think there will only be one more chapter. Thanks for sticking with me.

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><p>Darcy paced. She occasionally rubbed her hands together nervously. Then she sat down to talk to Clint for awhile. He was adorably cranky, and comfortably undemanding. She felt able to relax for the first time since he'd been stabbed. Clint was a comfortable blanket around her shoulders. She felt safe. Normal. Until her thoughts went back to Luke. He didn't like to be kept from what he wanted. And Darcy was his steam valve. He'd told her that several times during the week. 'You keep me from random acts of destruction.' It had seemed completely gush-worthy at the time, but now seemed a bit scarycreepy.

Luke was….Luke was challenging to keep satisfied. It took all of her energy and focus. She had…well, she hadn't even realized that she was so far gone. _Darcy_ had faded to almost nothing. There was only this sex creature, desperate to please another. It had become all about Luke, and she hadn't even realized it until back in familiar territory. It was a little frightening. And sure, she talked gushingly about Luke to Clint, but it was a desperate ploy to keep from thinking about how she hadn't really existed for a week.

She felt thin. She felt thin and overstretched and completely detached from herself. She'd gotten a good look at herself in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't pretty. Her face had thinned out, and her eyes were sunken pits. Her skin was an unhealthy white color and her hair was greasy. How did Luke even find her attractive like this? What did that say about his issues that he apparently did still find her appealing like this?

She worried about Luke's reaction. The potential for mayhem and destruction that she could sense, behind the thin veneer of civil behavior. He could be very scary.

Clint sensed her distraction, and tried to regain her attention, telling silly little stories that usually made her laugh. But Darcy could only smile worriedly.

* * *

><p>Loki was confused. Thor was many things, but completely stupid when it came to battle was not among them. He had his weaknesses, but broadcasting a name-calling session <em>days<em> after Loki's attack on the Black Widow made no sense at all. If reacting as a hothead, Thor would have done so immediately upon being able to stand, not days later. Bringing two of his precious mortals along as backup was also not Thor's style. His not-brother hadn't even been trying very hard to hurt him. Loki had taken it as a good opportunity to let loose on them. He considered himself the clear victor in their little altercation, but it was bothering him as to why it had happened.

Then he returned to an empty hotel room.

Darcy was nowhere to be found. Loki tore apart the room, searching for a note that explained her absence, but found nothing. Increasingly agitated, he finally thought to check the strange device known as a cell phone. Sure enough, there was a halting message from Darcy, explaining that she'd been called in to work, and there was an emergency situation that required the staff to be locked down indefinitely. She would call him when she was free.

Loki lied all the time, so he was adept at identifying when someone else was lying. Darcy was not telling the truth, or maybe only telling a partial truth.

A spark of suspicion lit within him. Her stilted excuse seemed a little too contrived. So he retraced the path of the little spark of energy that was Darcy. He'd become very familiar with that spark over the past week, so following its traces was easy enough. She meandered about the hotel room for a bit, and then headed out. She went into the building where she worked, and that's where the spark deviated from what Loki expected. It traveled downward, underground, and then at a right angle. Then it surfaced – inside Avengers Headquarters.

A blinding rage consumed him. They had taken her away from him. They were holding her where they thought he could not get to her. It all made sense now. Thor's unusual actions had been nothing more than a distraction! The heroes thought they were rescuing her. Instead, they had signed they own death warrants. No one took from Loki. No one.

Loki threw his head back and screamed in rage. That didn't do anything to lessen the rising tide of black fury within him. His magic built within, careening off the self imposed walls of control, until it broke free and swept outward, destroying everything in its path.

Standing in the aftermath, amidst the dust and the screams, Loki called his armor. They would pay with their lives. Once they had, he would claim Darcy from their cold, dead clutches.

* * *

><p>When cries of alarm began, Darcy jumped up off the edge of the bed. An explosion rocked the building and she stumbled, falling against the wall. Alarms immediately went off, and she could see agents running past Clint's room.<p>

"Shit. Stay here," she barked at Clint.

"Darcy no!" he protested as she ran through the door.

There was smoke, and fire, and screaming coming from seemingly all directions. Loud concussive explosions repeatedly rocked the building. Darcy ran for Coulson's office, because Phil always knew what was going on.

Phil did not know what was going on. He was sprawled on the floor outside his office, reclining against the wall underneath a very large splash of blood. There was a pool of it widening beneath him as it poured out of the hole in his chest. Darcy skidded to a halt, mouth agape, and fell to her knees beside him. Coulson looked up at her, but the light was fading quickly from his eyes.

"Loki," he gurgled, blood bubbling from his lips.

Darcy gasped, tears springing to her eyes, and reached out to take his hand. "Don't try to talk, Phil. We'll get the medic team-"

"Too late for that," Coulson corrected in a voice that was quickly growing faint. "Get out, get away. He wants to…."

His hand slid from hers and flopped bonelessly into his lap. A hitching rattle, accompanied by more blood from the mouth, was the last sound Phil Coulson made. The light faded from his eyes as life left him.

Darcy couldn't take the blank stare, and reached out to close his eyelids. She felt numb, detached. Coulson didn't deserve to die like this. When had everything gone so wrong? She rose slowly to her feet, and staggered as another explosion rocked the building. She heard Thor shouting, and then the crash of Mjolnir's lightning. It was probably the dumbest thing in the world to do, but she ran toward it.

She ran around a corner and skidded to a halt. Thor stood tall, Mjolnir at ready, facing off against….Luke? He was wearing very familiar looking armor, and oh…there was all the angst and fury and madness she'd sensed. It was in his face, in every line of his body as he stared with burning eyes right at Thor.

"Luke?" she ventured.

Both men turned to face her. Thor looked fearful. Luke looked…mad, fucking insane.

"Darcy get back!" Thor snapped. "Go! Get Fury!"

She took another shaky step forward. "Luke? What's going on?"

"This is my brother Loki, Darcy!"

She wanted to puke. It made too much sense. Luke was Loki. He had no interest in her. She had been a convenient means to an end. This end. The destruction of the Avengers.

She stared at him beseechingly, wanting him to deny it. But Luke's face, Loki's face, told her it was true. At the same time, there was raw pain on his face as he looked from her, to Thor, and then back to her.

"You lied to me, Darcy," he said, voice thick. "You lied. You know Thor."

Thor swiveled his head, looking at both of them. "Of course she does, Loki. Darcy works for S.H.I.E.L.D."

She wished, desperately, that Thor had kept his mouth shut. There probably wasn't anything he could have said that would have done more damage. Luke's, Loki's expression hardened.

"You lied!" he raged. "Why does everyone I care about always lie to or about me?"

She wondered, briefly, if he realized what he had just admitted. "Luke…" she reached out to him, but he made an angry, negating wave of his hand.

"No Darcy. I am not Luke. My name is Loki. Say it!"

She stared at him in silence, and that only made him angrier. All reason left his eyes. "Yes," he hissed. "Loki. You've been fucked by a monster, Darcy. The very monster you said you would date, remember? A monster that is going to destroy everything you know."

"Why?" she asked in a shaky voice. "Why Lu-…Loki?"

He titled his head, a mad light burning in his eyes. "Why not? Everyone lies to me, and no one wants me. My own father left me to die." He was snarling the words, spittle flying from his lips. "My adopted father never told me that I was not his, and that I was born a monster, that I was a monster! Everything I did, I did so that I would be worthy in his eyes, and he rejected me! So why shouldn't I destroy everything?" He clenched his fists. "You lied to me."

"Darcy, go," Thor hissed quietly. "My brother is out of his head right now."

"Yes Darcy, go," Loki mocked. "Go lie to someone else."

She was angry suddenly. He wanted to make an issue out of lying? "Why is it such an issue, Loki? I didn't even lie. I just didn't share certain information! You don't like being lied to? Well neither do I, you fuck! Everything out of your mouth was a lie! Your name, your little family story, your new job story…everything! You couldn't even be honest about what you are!"

Thor's eyes widened. "Darcy this is unwise."

"Shut up Thor!" she cried, feeling all the stress of the past two weeks just explode. "You watched Natasha beat me up and didn't even try to stop her! I don't want to talk to you."

A concussive blast from the Iron Man repulsors knocked Loki through a wall. When he came back to his feet, he had gone blue and was snarling. Stark skidded to a halt beside Thor, and cast a look around the God of Thunder to stare at Darcy.

"Get out of here, Darcy!"

"Fuck you, Tony," she replied, dashing tears from her eyes. "I hate all of you." She shook her head. There were memories of her week with Luke flashing through her head. She could see it now, in hindsight. She had been the sex plaything of a mad god. It made her want to vomit.

Loki laughed bitterly at her statement. "We are kindred in that, Darcy. Come with me. Even though you have lied, I would spare you when I take over this pathetic planet."

"You almost killed Clint," she accused. "Why would I go anywhere with you?"

Confusion did not translate well onto the blue features. "Clint? The archer? I did nothing to him."

"You stabbed him!" she cried.

Understanding flooded his face, and a deadly calm seemed to come over him. "Fucking an Avenger? So you are no more than a whore for them?"

Darcy flinched as if he'd slapped her. "You know that's not true."

"Do I?" Loki's voice was dripping with menace and disgust. "Did you spread your legs for all of them? I prefer to not have Thor's castoffs. Or was the archer the only one who would have anything to do with you?"

Stark blasted at him with a repulsor again, but Loki brushed it aside with his weird spear type thing. His attention was almost completely focused on Darcy. He carefully weighed her emotions. "He was. Was he too busy to seek out someone he actually wanted to be with?"

Darcy flinched at the cutting words, but at the same time, she wanted to reach out to him. He was hurt. That was easy enough to see.

Something hissed by her ear. She didn't even recognize it as an arrow until Loki's hand shot up and caught it in midair, right in front of his face. "Primitive," he snorted dismissively, sneering at Clint, who was somewhere behind her.

Darcy knew that arrowhead, and dove for cover, even as it exploded in Loki's face. He cried out in rage as he was hurled backward, helmet tumbling from his head. Tony and Thor were both moving toward him, but not fast enough. Loki sprang to his feet, spewing curses. He was not harmed, Darcy could see from her position behind an overturned desk, but he was very angry.

Another arrow hissed overhead. Loki tried to bat it aside with his spear, but the arrowhead exploded on contact, spraying him with a blinding agent. If was effective, apparently, because Loki's cry was pained. He waved the spear about madly, shaking his head and trying to clear his eyes.

Thor threw Mjolnir, and it struck Loki in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Darcy looked away. It was painful to watch her lover, no matter how insane, get battered by multiple Avengers.

But Loki wasn't down and out. He struggled back to his feet and started blindly blasting with the spear. A wall fell on Thor, and Tony was blown off of his feet. Darcy had a brief moment to be scared before a blast hit the desk she was hiding behind. The world disappeared in a blinding blast of heat and light.

She dimly felt the rush of air as she was catapulted backwards. Bigger than that was the shrapnel of the exploding desk; each piece causing a little shock as it hit her, burrowed into her skin. It felt like a thousand razor blades slicing into her. This wouldn't end well.

It did not. She hit an unyielding surface with enough force to shatter bones and drive larger pieces of the desk through her. Darcy dropped to the floor, trying to scream with the overwhelming pain, but all she managed was a bloody gurgle. If there was a god, he would let her pass out now.

Why did dying hurt so much? Almost as much as the breaking of her heart and soul. Darcy hoped it would end quickly, but knew it wouldn't. She was going to drown in her own blood or bleed out. And there would be no relief from the excruciating pain until she was dead.

The blast had her ears ringing. Any sounds were dim, muffled. But she heard her name.

"Darcy?" Someone dropped to the floor beside her. "Oh God, Darce…no." The voice was thick with tears, or maybe that was just because she really couldn't hear. She tried to say something, but only choked on a mouthful of blood. It would be soon. She took comfort from the trembling hand that stroked her face, because whoever it was would help ease her into the arms of death.

There was another voice, louder, much louder. "Look what you have done, Loki! Look! This is the result of your madness! She had no quarrel with you. She soothed your soul, and look at her now!"

There was liquid falling onto her face. Darcy wasn't sure if it was blood or tears. She couldn't open her eyes, and didn't really want to. The pain would only get worse if she saw the damage to her body. It didn't matter. It would be over soon.

"Oh God, Darce…please." That choked voice held layers of emotions that it really shouldn't have. Not based on past interactions. Jane would be pleased. Well…maybe not.

An angry metallic voice grated along her raw nerve endings. "You're gonna do something to fix this, or I'm gonna make paste out of your head, Grumpy Smurf!"

"Get him away from here!" The tear choked voice was angry now, about to explode into action. Darcy just wanted the calmness back. It sounded like there was a fight brewing over her broken body.

"Give him a chance to fix this, Clint Barton." The loud voice set off explosions of pain everywhere. Darcy wanted to shush this voice, but she knew there was no power in the universe that could.

"I'll rip out your heart with my bare hands," the choked voice threatened. "I'll gut you like you gutted me."

"You can try," an icily calm voice retorted. "But you will not succeed. Step aside."

There were cool fingers on her face. They were familiar. Those fingers knew every inch of her body, she remembered. But they had been a lie.

"I am so very sorry, Darcy. I never meant for you to get caught in the middle of this madness. I came here to reclaim you."

"She's not your fucking property, asshole," the choked voice snarled. "Just fix this."

The cool fingers were framing her face. "Darcy? This will hurt terribly. It may prove too much and kill you anyhow." There was a press of cool lips to her forehead. With it came heat. A burning, destructive heat that was consuming her. It was fire, sweeping through her broken body. If Darcy could have screamed, she would have, because burning to death from the inside out was even more painful than her current injuries.

"You're killing her!"

"She was already dying. I'm trying to help her be reborn from the ashes. Like your phoenix legend."

Rebirth wouldn't happen. There was too much pain. A body could only take so much before it gave up, and Darcy was right on the edge. The burning only intensified.

The cool voice uttered a soft sigh, and fell away from her. There was a clatter nearby, but it didn't matter. Everything was narrowing to a single focus, one last burst of pain before final darkness. Darcy reached out toward the darkness, craving the relief, but suddenly, there were arms around her that were real and grounded in life.

"Don't you dare," the choked voice hissed. "No. If I had to stay, so do you."

The arms held her tightly, cradling her body. It didn't seem to be quite as broken as before. Pain was fading to a more tolerable level, but Darcy was still lost. She had already cast off on her journey to the other side, but those damnable arms were trying desperately to pull her back.

"Please Darce."

"She'll need blood, unless he was able to restore that. Doesn't look like it."

There was a babble of nearby voices, unrecognizable. Someone tried to take her away from the stabilizing arms around her, and there was a jostling movement and a grunt of pain.

"Over my dead body. Do what you have to do right here!"

There was so much confusion, and voices murmuring over her, and little pinpricks of pain in her arm, but she was held back from the abyss by the arms around her. Darcy wanted to go, because nothing would ever be the same again, but she was not permitted.

Eventually, after the longest time, the voice quietly whispered to her, telling her that it was all right to sleep now. She wasn't allowed to leave, but she could sleep. That sounded like the best idea ever, and Darcy faded into sleep.

* * *

><p>Waking was an act of sheer will. Everything hurt. Darcy felt like she'd been on the wrong end of a Hulk altercation, but she didn't remember Big Green making an appearance.<p>

She managed to pry her eyes open. Hospital room. She'd spent entirely too much time in the hospital recently. Either for herself or someone else. Someone else was sprawled half on the hospital bed at her waist, hand on her hand, disheveled head pressed against her hip. Snoring. It couldn't be comfortable for him, since he had to still be experiencing pain from his stabbing.

She wondered why he was here. Then she wondered why _she_ was still here. She'd been blown up. She remembered that part. The pain, and the fire, and the draining sensation as blood just poured from her body. People didn't wake up from that. But here she was. Awake. Whole. At least, she didn't think any body parts were missing.

In the middle of a pat down inspection of her upper body, Darcy accidentally patted the head pressed against her hip. Clint grunted and his whole body jerked. "What the hell?" He pushed himself up with his hands and froze, staring up at Darcy like a deer caught in headlights.

"You're awake," he finally said softly.

Darcy slid her hand down to run through his hair, and then pulled it up to inspect it, and the arm it was attached to. They were whole, but laced with newly healed scars. She _had_ been blown up.

In a little bit of a panic, she inspected the other arm and hand. Then she pulled out the collar of her hospital gown and looked down. There were scars everywhere. She was a fucking Frankenstein.

Clint's hands stilled hers when she reached for the blanket covering her lower half, intent on yanking it down to inspect the rest of her body.

"Darce, don't," he warned quietly. "You're alive."

She felt the tears welling up from her eyes, and wondered what her face looked like. "I'm hideous!"

Clint sat up and reached out to cup her face. "Never. You are beautiful." He swallowed hard, and Darcy was astonished to see tears in _his_ eyes. "We almost lost you. We would have lost you. But the bastard healed you as best as he was able to. Only fitting considering he was the one who almost killed you."

She stared at him, bottom lip trembling. "You knew, didn't you?"

Clint drew back. "What do you mean?" His Hawkeye expression slid into place, which meant no expression at all.

"When I called you, when I came to see you at Headquarters…you already knew that Luke was Loki, didn't you? That's why Thor called him out. It was a diversion to get him away from me."

Clint sighed. "Yes. I heard everything you talked to me about, you know. I put it all together while I was under. Loki stabbed me because I had been with you. He had already claimed you as his, and didn't like someone else messing with what he considered his."

Hearing it like that was brutal. Truthful, and something she had already figured out for herself, but brutal.

"What happened to him?" She had to know.

Clint's face darkened. "He gave everything he had to save you. He was nothing more than an empty shell when Thor took him back to Asgard. They don't know if he'll recover."

That was hard to hear too. Loki had done terrible things. But while he was Luke, he had made her feel special, even if it was only in her own head. He had suffered a great injustice from his family, by Thor's reckoning, and had been doomed since his birth.

Darcy stared down at her scarred hands, twisted in the bed sheet on top of her stomach. "Why did he heal me?"

Clint shrugged. "Stark threatened to blow his head off. Thor said it was pretty much an empty threat, but he healed you anyway." He sat back in the chair beside her hospital bed, impassive mask in place. "I'm sorry that there couldn't be a happy ending for you, Darce. I'm sure Thor will keep you posted on his recovery."

"Don't be an ass, Barton. I'm not in love with Loki. I mean, I could have been, but when I was with him, I lost myself. It's no good when you're consumed by the person you're with. That's just like a twisted form of non-lethal cannibalism."

He snorted, arms folded across his chest, watching her carefully.

Darcy frowned. "Why are you here, Clint?"

There was the slightest crack in his mask. "You did the same for me."

"It's the scars, right? You're here to keep me from despair."

The crack became a fucking dam. "I'm here because I'm an idiot, Darce. All I could see was Nat. But she will never allow herself to love someone. It's too much of a weakness. And I was too much of an idiot to realize that. And I'm sorry that I let that get in the way."

"What are you saying, Barton?" Her voice cracked. He wasn't saying what she thought. He wouldn't.

"I can see you," he told her. Darcy knew that was Barton-speak for very deep seated feelings, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Everything was all tangled up in being a scarred freak now, and having been the sex slave of a mad, alien god who had given up his essence to save her life.

But he had held her back from the abyss. She remembered how his arms had felt, cradling her broken body. She remembered his tear-choked voice, commanding that she live. There was so much emotion tied up in those memories that she couldn't even begin to think past them.

Darcy reached out and took his hand. "I can't see anything right now, Clint. I…I need some time."

He nodded, disappointment flooding his face. "I can understand that. I'll be here." He squeezed her hand tightly.

* * *

><p>Two days after her discharge from the hospital, Darcy finished packing her meager belongings. She couldn't stay. There was just too much raw emotion here. What had happened with Loki. Clint's sudden about face. Watching Coulson die right in front of her. Her beating at the hands of Natasha. She needed time to get her head clear and figure out where she was going, what she was doing, and what she was.<p>

Fury didn't like it, but he understood her need to leave. "There will be a place for you here if you decide to come back. You've earned it."

Jane hated the idea. "I think you're overreacting. You should stay."

The Avengers had differing opinions. Thor begged her to stay so that he could continue groveling for forgiveness. Natasha didn't say much, but she had her own atonement to complete now that she'd been cleared as a potential hazard. Rogers and Banner didn't want her to leave, but respected her decision to do so. Stark? Well….he was just his usual self.

"Stay? Go? It doesn't matter to me. Don't know what the big fuss is about."

He'd given up trying to get in her pants. Darcy thought that he probably figured he couldn't measure up to a god's sexual performance. Well, either that, or the scars were a total turnoff. Head to toe. Loki had healed her from the inside out, knitting bones, organs and veins first. He'd managed to close the myriad tears in her skin before he exhausted himself, but the scars would remain. Darcy found it very difficult to look in a mirror. It was a wonder that she had stayed alive long enough for Loki to put her back together.

Clint wasn't around much. He gave her the time she'd asked for, and when she told him she was leaving, he'd grown very quiet. He looked a little lost and a little hurt.

"Are you sure?"

Darcy didn't want to prolong this goodbye. "I need time and space, Clint. All this shit that went down has fucked with my brain. I don't trust me to make smart decisions right now."

He nodded. "I'll be right here, Darce. If…you know."

She kissed him goodbye soundly. He held on tightly for a few minutes, and then walked away without looking back.

Jane drove her to the airport. Darcy didn't want people staring at her, so she wore full length pants and shirt sleeves, with lace gloves and a veil. She probably looked like some whacked out eccentric movie star or something. Or Michael Jackson. But she didn't care. Better that than people staring with pity in their eyes.

Jane was crying when she hugged her in front of the ticket counter. "I hate you. You scared the life out of me, and now you're leaving."

Darcy sniffed. "I may be back. I'll keep in touch. Don't let the darkness get you down."

Jane placed a hand on her veiled cheek. "There's not as much of it, now. Loki redeemed himself by saving you. Thor felt like he had his brother back, even if only for a few minutes. He grieves again, but it's a clean grief, not tainted like the last time." She bent forward to press her forehead to Darcy's. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Back at you, Foster. Now get away from me before I start blubbering."

Jane stepped back, and raised a hand in a forlorn wave as Darcy wheeled her luggage toward the counter. Darcy, taking a clue from Clint, didn't look back.


	14. Chapter 14

Well, this is the last full length chapter. I think there will be one short epilogue yet. I hope to wrap up most of the loose ends, but like life, there will probably be some remaining. Chapter 13 took a lot out of me, because it went places I wasn't really expecting. This chapter didn't want to start. I tried several times, but it just didn't want to be written at first. I had to go away and right some fluff before I could come back to this.

Please review. I appreciate your thoughts.

* * *

><p>She had run for almost three months after leaving New York. Remote hotels, far from civilization hubs, became her living quarters of choice. Even there, people looked at her strangely. Of course. As the temperature climbed, Darcy's clothing did not change. She still wore full length sleeves and pants with delicate lace gloves and her black veil. She'd rather that the freak looks from others were because of her attire and not her scars.<p>

Money wasn't an issue, which was nice. For some unknown reason, Stark had gifted her with an obnoxious amount of money on a preloaded credit card as a parting gift. He hadn't said why, but Darcy thought that maybe he was trying to atone for his past actions. She didn't really care what his motivation was. She was just grateful that she could be unfettered for awhile.

Solitude was both a blessing and a curse. She didn't have to worry about what others were thinking about her, because she interacted very rarely with others. But at the same time, all that empty time had her thinking of things, thinking of those two weeks, thinking of Loki and Clint and how she felt about them. She hadn't lied to Clint – she hadn't been in love with Loki. In lust? Oh hell yes. The man was a god, in bed as well as outside of it. He had a level of attractiveness that had overrode the madness, the absolute fury she could sometimes sense from him. But, like she had told Clint, she had lost herself. She had been consumed. The best sex in the world wasn't a good enough reason to allow herself to fade from existence.

She did a lot of thinking about Clint, trying to sort out how she felt. As soon as it became clear that he could not stop desiring Natasha, she had very firmly walled herself off from him, so she couldn't get hurt. Eventually, when he'd realized the futility of their sort-of dating he'd ended it amicably.

Trying to undo that wall, to understand how she really felt about Clint, was terribly difficult.

She liked him. He was a friend who made her laugh and sometimes made her scream. She could count on him. And he had held her back from the abyss. Commanded her to live. He had even been willing to step aside when he thought she was in love with Loki. And maybe most importantly, she wasn't consumed by him. The time with Loki had been beyond amazing, but the loss of self had scared the shit out of her, once she'd come back to herself. That would never happen with Clint. He wouldn't be interested in someone who was completely subservient. He liked to fight too much.

Darcy just wasn't sure if his about-face at the end had been true feelings, or brought about by almost dying. That's why she had to leave. Not only to give herself time to sort things out, but to give Clint time too. He'd been through a hell of a lot in those crazy two weeks. Stabbed and almost killed. Waking up with some deep emotions for her. Natasha's abduction and subsequent return at the hands of Loki. Realizing Darcy had become the sex toy of a mad god. Watching her almost die. There was just as much shit pinballing inside his head, and Darcy didn't want him to make hasty decisions.

Plus, there were the scars.

Not just the physical ones. Clint would always have a reminder of the crazy times with the nasty stab wound scar in his abdomen. And that had to be something of a mindfuck for him because it had happened because of her.

Then there were her scars. Sometimes she thought that the emotional ones were worse than the physical ones. Until she saw herself in the mirror after her shower every day. Darcy made herself look. For the first month (or two), she cried every time she saw herself. It wasn't just the scars. It was her eyes and what was in them. She couldn't meet her own eyes in the mirror without growing hysterical, because she could see pain, fear, terrible loss, and maybe a little bit of Loki's madness in them.

It was a terrible thing when you couldn't face yourself.

She survived. She knew people were worried, so she texted Jane once a week. A simple statement: 'Still alive.' Jane, always hopeful, texted a book in return, usually four or five texts that wanted to know more. Darcy never had the courage to respond. Alive didn't mean anything more than breathing and sometimes even that became a chore. She didn't want to give Jane more hope. She was being selfish, she knew. Thinking only about herself and how her life was affected. But she honestly didn't have the energy or courage for anything more than that right now.

She didn't talk to or text Clint. Darcy very strongly did not want to give Clint hope where there might be none. He understood, she knew. In his years of service for his country, he'd been through nightmares and lived, so he knew that sometimes, being selfish was the only thing that kept you going. Jane always mentioned him in her return texts, and Darcy devoured every word, but wouldn't torture either herself or Clint by trying to contact him until she was more settled. Until she figured out her own feelings.

At some point during her third month of running (Darcy didn't even know what state she was in at that point), the side effects began making themselves known. She was scared, and alone, and felt so much like a lost child that it was the most natural thing in the world to run home.

She was so thankful that her mother was able to roll with whatever life threw. If her mom had freaked, Darcy probably would have continued to freak, and maybe would have self destructed completely. As it stood, there was a lot of crying, a lot of talking, and some praying for guidance.

The scars didn't freak her mom out. They made her sad, and she told Darcy, more than once, that she wished that she could take it all away. Being her mother couldn't be an easy thing, and Darcy had a new appreciation for that fact. She was a train wreck right now, but her mom just shrugged, pulled her into a fiercely tight hug, and told her they'd figure it out.

Being at home helped a little. Darcy felt like she could rewind some of the artificial aging she'd gone through, and start to feel at least a little like her old self again. She revisited old haunts, did silly stupid things she'd done when she'd been a teenager, and just tried to forget for a little while. Just long enough to let the emotional wounds heal a bit.

Extended family and friends were curious as to what had happened. Darcy didn't tell them anything, other than that she'd been in 'an accident.' Saying anything more than that would get her arrested. Besides, she didn't really think she'd be believed. Darcy didn't come from a family (or region) that did big things. Working with the Avengers? Boinking an Avenger? Boinking a mad alien god who'd killed Justin Bieber? Yeah, they'd want to know what drugs she was taking.

She couldn't hide forever, and as the side effects from those two weeks in crazy land became more pronounced, it became more and more likely that friends and family would get pushier in wanting to know what had happened. It was bad enough getting the sidelong glances at her veil or gloves. What if she took off everything she was hiding under? They wouldn't know how to deal with it. Hell, she was barely dealing with it! Her mom seemed to be handling things better than Darcy was, but that probably came with motherhood. Freak out on your own time, not where your child could see.

Eventually, it was her mother who took action.

"You can't stay here and hide from this. Becoming an adult is damn painful sometimes, and you have to deal with things that you'd rather forget about, but there are rewards that make it worthwhile. Go talk to him. Find out what happened to the other one. I know it's driving you nuts not knowing. Make a decision about what you want to do. But stop hiding."

Darcy loved and hated her mother for her bluntness sometimes. But she was right. So she packed some bags and bought a ticket for New York.

She'd missed some of New York City's finer points. No one stared at her, because a veiled woman was not even close to the strangest thing to be seen. No one wanted to be in her business, because they were too busy with their own. New Yorkers were resilient. Big things could happen here, and often did, so the mentality was completely different.

She didn't tell anyone that she was coming in. She was afraid they'd hear too many things in her voice, and she really didn't want a big emotional scene at the airport, where non-New Yorkers would stare and point. So she was a little at a loss of what to do. That's when she decided to call Fury.

The man had to be one of the busiest people on the planet right now (because no one could replace Coulson), but he took her call right away. He listened as Darcy explained what she wanted, and remained very patient when she completely broke down and just sobbed on the phone, because she didn't want to face what was coming up. He stayed very calm through her storm of weeping, and then kindly told her that it wouldn't be a problem, and that she should come in.

Six months away hadn't changed her confused tumble of feelings all that much. Darcy stared out the window of the cab at the buildings going past, so familiar, yet now alien to her. Everything felt alien these days. Everything that had happened, everyone she had known, but most especially herself. She saw the world through a dark veil now. Literally, but even without the cloth that covered her eyes, she didn't see anything the way that she used to.

It was a loss of a certain type of innocence that Darcy hadn't known she'd had, until it was gone.

She felt old. Aged beyond her years. Two weeks of her life had taken years away from her. Everything had changed and it left her with a strangeness so deep she felt like she would never be herself again. Her past was getting closer every second, along with things she just did not want to deal with just yet, because she wasn't sure how they would survive the new Darcy.

Nick met her on the ground floor, near the janitor's closest. Darcy almost laughed at the cloak and dagger stuff. She'd forgotten the rush of excitement that came with it. Still, it gave her that little jolt of amusement needed to get her past the complete despair she'd felt at the airport.

"Nick," she greeted.

"Lewis," he returned. His one eye was busy sweeping up and down her layered form, taking it all in. "You look healthier than the last time I saw you."

That was an understatement, considering at that time she'd just been pieced back together after having been blown up.

"You look crankier," she told him honestly.

A shadow crossed his face. "Phil is a hard man to replace. I haven't found anyone yet who can step into his shoes."

Grief never really goes away. It just fades so that it isn't all consuming. Phil Coulson was the first person she had watched die in front of her eyes. He hadn't been a bad boss. Tough. Incredibly tough, but still, a good boss and a good man. Darcy swallowed hard.

"No one can, Nick. Phil was one of kind."

"That he was." Fury sighed heavily. "I'm guessing that you haven't kept anyone up to date on your…health?" He waved a vague hand at her, including everything.

"No. I haven't spoken to anyone since I left."

He curled his lips. "Always making a disruption, Lewis. I thought maybe you'd gotten over that."

"Me too, Nick. But I wouldn't have come back if things hadn't…escalated."

He nodded. "Well shit. I'm gonna have to put Barton on inactive duty for awhile, or he's likely to get himself killed. He's gonna have other things on his mind."

Darcy swallowed hard. "Yes, he is. And I don't know how he's gonna react."

Fury rolled his eye. "Fuck if I know. You just had to drag a shitstorm back with you, didn't you?"

Darcy's laugh held no humor. "Believe me, Nick. This is one shitstorm that I would have preferred not to shower in."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but just shook his head and opened the elevator. Darcy didn't have clearance at the moment, since she was on indefinite leave.

They went to a different floor than the one she had worked on. This level was more restricted. Darcy had the feeling that a lot of S.H.I.E.L.D's extremely classified R&D took place on this floor. When she had been active, her clearance wouldn't even allow the elevator to go to this floor.

"Should I be blindfolded or something?" she asked, a little nervously, as Fury led her through hi tech hallways that were completely deserted.

"There's nothing of importance that can be seen from the hallway, Lewis. And I thought that you might not want to walk through the jungle where you used to work."

"No," she agreed in a small voice. That would just raise a tide of old bad feelings that she didn't want to have anymore.

Fury led her into what looked like an interrogation room. But it seemed a lot more comfortable than the one she had been in previously, and she realized that it was probably a debriefing room for the high level agents, or the Avengers themselves.

"Get a drink, make yourself comfortable. I'll have Barton here in ten minutes."

Fury spun on his heel and left. Darcy found a small refrigerator with bottled water, and pulled a bottle out for herself. She thought about it for a minute, and then pulled out a second bottle for Clint. At least she could keep him from getting dehydrated. The only thing that might kill him would be shock.

She settled down into a chair that was more comfortable than it looked, and pulled it in close to the small table. She was facing the door, so she'd be ready. Then she rested her head in her hands and waited.

When the door opened it startled her, and Darcy's head shot up. Clint was entering, but he had his head turned over his shoulder, talking to Fury.

"So what's this about, sir?"

And when Fury closed the door in his face, he stopped. "What the fuck?"

"Hi Clint."

Darcy wished her voice sounded more confident, but to her ears, it was weak and tremulous. Still, it was enough to bring Clint's head whipping around to face her. For a long time, he just stared at her like maybe he didn't believe she was real.

"Darce?" he asked finally, a little shakily.

"None other," she replied, just as shakily.

All the strength seemed to drain out of him. Clint took a step forward, and pulled a chair out so he could sink down into it. His stare was a little unnerving, but he didn't hesitate to reach across the table and take her gloved hand.

"You've been gone a long time," he noted, squeezing her hand. She wasn't sure if that was to comfort her, or himself.

"I had a lot of thinking to do," she replied. His eyes were doing the same as Fury's one had, raking up and down what he could see of her. It must be an agent thing. "You look a little tired, Clint."

"I don't sleep that well, Darce. You know that."

"I do. But it's gotten worse, hasn't it?"

He shrugged, still drinking in every detail his eyes could. "There's been a lot more on my mind recently."

Darcy tried really hard not to make a snarky comment at that. "Me too." She thought it sounded kind of neutral.

Clint's sigh was huge. "I don't like this look. Will you take off the veil, please?" He stared at her expectantly.

If it had been anyone else, it would have been asking too much. It would have crossed the line into bitch-slapping territory, even. But this was Clint, and he'd seen her when her body had been pulverized and shredded. He knew what lay under the veil, because he'd been looking at it in the hospital before she woke up. And he was so damn accepting of it that a sob caught in her throat.

His eyes went watery at that. "Awe fuck, Darce. I didn't mean to make you cry. It's just that…I don't think you should hide, that's all. You survived something that would have killed a lot of other people. You shouldn't be ashamed of that."

She sniffed back a few tears. "Considering that the main reason I did survive was because I was a mad god's concubine, I think I have a right to be ashamed about my survival."

Clint shook his head, and reached up to cup her cheek through the veil. "Nope. You wouldn't have been in that situation at all if you hadn't been the mad god's concubine, so one event led to the other. Stop hiding, Darcy."

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but he was right. That's what she was here for – to stop hiding. So she reached up and pulled the veil off. Clint smiled when her face was uncovered, and she knew then that she loved him. Things like head to toe scars just weren't that important to Clint Barton. It didn't take anything away from how he saw her.

He brushed the tears from her cheeks. "You're a sight for sore eyes, you really are." His forefinger tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "But you're not sleeping much either."

"No," she agreed a little hoarsely. "Too many memories that come out while I'm sleeping."

"Yeah." He looked down at the table, hand dropping down to her hands. Darcy wasn't really surprised when he started tugging at the gloves, so she let him pull the gloves off, exposing her scarred arms and hands.

He was stroking her forearms with a calloused thumb. "You're very pale. Have you been hiding all this time?"

"Pretty much," she told him.

Clint looked up with a very vulnerable expression, and her heart soared a little, because it looked like time hadn't changed his feelings. "Are you here to stay?"

Darcy sniffed, blinking back more tears. "I'm not sure yet. There have been some side effects, and I…I'm not sure how you're going to react to them."

His eyes never faltered in their steadiness. "Did you hear that the Iron Man condoms were recalled because they were almost 100% defective?"

It was so far out in left field that Darcy spluttered. "What?" Then, as he continued to lightly stroke her arms, and smile at her, she realized that he'd already figured it out. "You shit. You already know."

He shrugged. "Hawkeye isn't just a name, you know. I see things that most people miss. You've gained weight, especially in the chest. You didn't stand up when I entered the room, and that's unlike you. You're wearing very loose and bulky clothes, but I'm still betting that if you stand up, it will be noticeable."

Darcy shook her head in defeat. "I wanted to break it to you gently."

He didn't flinch. "You did. As I noticed each thing, it got me ready for the end conclusion."

Darcy pushed back from the table and stood. He was right. Even with the bulky clothes, her protruding abdomen couldn't be hidden anymore. This was the last consequence she had expected from her crazy two weeks, but it was the one that would have the most effect on her life. Probably.

Clint stood and walked around the table. He reached out, but did not touch the belly. Instead, he looked up to meet her eyes, searching for the truth. "Is it mine? Or his?"

Darcy uttered a slightly hysterical laugh. "Trust you to think of that right away. It took me a month after I knew to even ask that question." She shrugged. "I don't have a definite answer, Clint. I had tests done, and everything comes back normal. No abnormalities. Considering he was a different _species_, I kinda doubt that offspring would be possible in the first place. And if it were possible, I'm sure there would be some weird ass readings. But…that's one of the reasons I came back. To talk to Thor about this, and see if he can rule out Loki."

His hands fell on her belly then, so very gently, and Darcy just wanted to break down. His eyes hadn't released hers yet, and she almost hated being the subject of his intensity, because it wasn't an easy thing.

"Why didn't you call or come back as soon as you knew?" he asked.

"Are you kidding? I was on an extended freakout when I realized what was going on. It took awhile to calm down from that. And I wasn't sure how you'd react, and…" The sobs finally started in earnest, and Darcy was gratified to feel Clint pull her forward into a safe and secure embrace. No reservations. Clint Barton didn't waste time lamenting about shit that happened. He processed it and moved forward, and she hadn't realized how much she'd been hoping for that reaction (but dreading that he would have a different one).

"It's gonna be okay, Darce," he reassured, stroking her hair. "We'll figure things out, I promise."

She didn't miss the 'we' part of it, and it was so exactly what she needed, to let her know that she wouldn't go through this alone, that for awhile, the tears came even harder. Clint Barton was also a man who didn't get flustered when confronted with a sobbing woman. He just carefully sat her back down in her chair, and dragged his own chair around the table so he could sit with her.

It finally passed, and Darcy was able to sort of bring her emotions under control. Dealing with what had happened would have been bad enough, but throwing pregnancy hormones in on top of that had really not helped.

Clint unscrewed the cap on her water bottle and passed it to her. Darcy took a few swallows, waited a minute, and then took a few more.

"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice. "I really didn't know how you would react."

Clint shrugged. "Can't change what happened." Then his expression slid into a more normal look. "I told you I didn't want to use those fucking condoms."

Darcy laughed. She couldn't help it. It was so Clint. "I should have listened, huh?" She wiped her eyes, and dug some tissues from her pockets to blow her nose, until she felt that she could breathe a little. "Were the condoms Tony's idea of joke? He had them made defective on purpose?"

Clint snorted. "No. It turned out that one of the workers in the factory that made them had this huge grudge against Tony, so he deliberately sabotaged production. When so many women who'd used them started turning up pregnant…Tony's been less than thrilled about the whole thing." He squeezed her hand. "I thought about it, when the news first broke. You know, you and I. But I figured since I hadn't heard anything from you that we were in the clear."

She sniffed. "I should have called. But…I was really scared."

He nodded. "You don't need to be. Let's call Thor in, okay? I'd like to hear what he has to say."

"Okay." Darcy looked down at their hands briefly, then back up at his face. "I don't want you to get mad, Clint, but I do need to ask about Loki, because I need to know what happened to him."

His mouth thinned a little, but there was no other visible sign that he didn't like it. "Thor will have the most up to date news. I've kinda steered clear of it."

She didn't blame him.

* * *

><p>It was funny how some things didn't change. Even through a closed door and mostly soundproof walls, Darcy could hear Thor approaching. He was talking to someone in his normal tone of voice, which meant loudly, of course. She was a little nervous.<p>

He was still a prince, apparently, because he opened the door without knocking and came right in. "What is it, Barton?" Then he froze, eyes on Darcy. A smile slowly crept across his face. "Jane. Look."

Jane peeked around the doorframe, and her mouth dropped open. Her reaction was far more vocal than either of the two men.

"Darcy!" she shrieked.

It was almost worth a million dollars to see Jane shove Thor out of the way so she could get to Darcy as quickly as possible.

There were tears and hugs, and ohmygods over the belly, but Darcy felt a weight lifting that had been holding her down for awhile. Jane had never wavered in her support or friendship, so it was very settling to see her again.

Then came the tough question, and Darcy was a little relieved that Clint asked it. He turned to Thor and asked, very bluntly, whether it was possible for Loki to have impregnated Darcy. Seeing the look on Thor's face, Darcy realized he hadn't thought of it either. Jane though, Jane didn't look completely floored at Clint's question.

Thor was obviously uncomfortable answering womanly questions. "To my knowledge, Jotunns and mortals are not cross-fertile. Loki; however, was not a typical Jotunn. He was very small, and he possessed magic. For that, he was left to die by his own people. Would those unusual qualities allowed him to be cross fertile?" The God of Thunder shrugged. "There is a healer among our people who could better answer that. I will ask her to visit, to settle this question."

So, they would have to wait a little longer for minds to be put at ease. There was another question though that Darcy had to ask. "Thor…what happened to him? To Loki?"

Thor's expression grew very sad. "His body lives, but there is no spirit or soul, as your people would call it, housed within. He gave everything of himself to heal you."

"Why did he do that?"

The blond prince shook his head. "I do not know. I believe that he came to have feelings for you. One moment, he was this mad, insane creature that I could not call my brother. The next, when he was able to see again and saw what his actions had done to you, he was full of anguish and remorse. I saw my brother return in those few moments, and I believe he knew what the cost of healing you would be. I have to thank you, for bringing him back."

That caused more tears from both Thor and Darcy, with Jane blinking desperately against them. Clint was dry eyed and faintly disapproving, but his grip on Darcy's hand didn't waver.

Darcy didn't want to face anyone else in S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers until she, they, her and Clint, had a better answer to the question that had been posed over the possibility of Loki fathering the child growing inside her. So Clint snuck her out the same way Fury had brought her in, while Thor departed for Asgard to ask for the healer.

Jane rode down to the ground floor with them. "You and I will meet up and talk later," she assured Darcy. "But I think right now, you and Clint need time together."

That was one of the biggest understatements of the year.

Darcy had wanted to put her veil and gloves back on before venturing outside, but Clint didn't even give her a choice. He stole them and pocketed them, and raised an eyebrow when it looked like she might protest. He also deftly slipped off the loose sleeveless tunic she had thrown over her regular clothes, leaving the protruding belly…protruding.

When Darcy made a grab for the tunic, Clint just shook his head. "Time to stop hiding, remember?

When he didn't don his disguise, Darcy was just stunned. He'd never been with her in public without his disguise. They were walking out into the merchandise shop and from there out into the fancrowd, and Clint wasn't going to put on a disguise? Everyone would recognize him, and then they would wonder why he was walking with a pregnant, scarred woman.

She was well on her way to a panic attack at just the thought of it all when Clint wrapped his arms around her and pressed a tender kiss to her parted lips. It allowed her to calm down as she relaxed in Clint's arms. They would hold her steady she knew.

"I said no more hiding," he told her, pulling back a little to look down into her eyes. "I meant for me too."

He slid an arm around her lower back, and started walking. Darcy had no choice but to walk with him.

The reaction of the fans wasn't what she'd expected. They fell silent, watching as one of their idols walked among them with a scarred, pregnant woman at his side. Darcy felt naked and exposed. Her skin hadn't been in sunlight since she'd been blown up. She'd forgotten how warm it made her feel, how alive. It made her realize how much she hadn't been alive in the past six months.

Darcy was a little teary eyed when they finally ducked into the relative safety of a cab. Clint didn't live that far away, so he usually took public transportation. She hadn't really thought about where they'd go, so when he gave the address of his apartment, she was a little stunned. Darcy had never been there. There were fans who camped out around his building. Not to accost him or anything, but just to catch the rare glimpses of him in plain clothes. And he was taking her there? With no disguise?

"You're shaking," he noted, nodding and smiling to a fan who was waving madly from the sidewalk.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked in a small voice.

Right there in the cab, before it pulled away, in front of the fans, he pulled her forward into a kiss. Darcy about melted. No hiding now. In an hour, speculation would be all over the internet.

His apartment was very nice (of course), with an open terrace that she found irresistible now that her skin had tasted sunlight. Clint didn't even have to be a mind reader to see her desire, so he made them a light lunch and put it on trays to take outside. Having a lounge chair to kick back in was a complete bonus.

They talked for hours, until the sun went down and Darcy's throat was dry and raspy from overuse. Then they headed back inside for a much needed shower. Clint insisted on taking it together, and Darcy's initial reservations about being naked in front of him with the big, pregnant belly and the scars quickly faded when he lovingly soaped every inch of her body. He wasn't put off by any of it, and spent a long time soaping the belly.

She was even more nervous about the going to bed part, but he set her at ease once again, settling down in a spooned position behind her, with his arms around the belly, and his breath a welcome warmth on the back of her neck. She'd had no hopes that their reunion would go this well, but then again, Clint wasn't like most guys.

It had been an emotionally exhausting day for both of them, and sleep soon came.

* * *

><p>Thor arrived around noon the next day, with a tall, older woman in tow. Her name was impossible for mortals to pronounce, she told them gravely, so they could just refer to her as Healer. She was very businesslike and to the point. She asked Darcy to lay on the sofa, and dropped to one knee on the floor beside her, hands outstretched over the belly, eyes closing.<p>

It was very strange. Darcy could feel little tingles in her skin, and swirls of warmth as the healer probed her. With magic? Or healing abilities, or whatever. It went on for a long time before she finally sat back with a deep sigh, fixing Darcy with piercing blue eyes.

"The child that grows in your belly is mortal. I can find no traces of tampering that would suggest interference by Loki. He is not the father of this child."

The relief that swept through Darcy was so strong it was almost painful, and it was echoed in Clint's expression as he helped her sit up, and then sat down beside her.

She didn't expect the ridiculous look of joy on his face.

Thor said a hasty goodbye, with the promise to talk to them later, and left with the healer in tow. Darcy just sat there, feeling lighter by the minute, staring at Clint's goofy, wide-eyed look of wonder. It was even better than his orgasm face.

"What?" she finally had to ask.

His hands were warm on the belly. "You're having my baby, Darce. I'm pretty much blown away by that, you know. Having kids isn't something that assassins or super heroes think about. Cuz of the mortality rate, you know. But…shit…this is huge."

It was a balm to her wounded soul that he was so accepting and excited. Darcy felt muscles relaxing that hadn't been relaxed since he'd been stabbed, and a laugh, a genuine laugh, bubbled from her mouth.

"Yeah, but it only gets bigger, you know. We're gonna be someone's _parents_, Clint. That's a mind fuck and a half."

They crashed out even earlier that night, spooning once again. Darcy wasn't as tired as she had been the night before, so she didn't drop off to sleep right away. But she did press herself back into Clint a little bit more for comfort, and realized he hadn't yet gone to sleep either when she felt parts of him stirring.

"Oh…uh…that happens sometimes," Clint apologized in her ear, sounding like a bashful teenager. "Sorry. Just ignore it."

Darcy wiggled her ass against it instead, rewarded with a groan. She hadn't felt the desire for sex since breaking free of Loki's consuming embrace, but her body was waking up and asking for it right now.

"And if I don't ignore it?" she asked, with some more wiggling.

Clint's arms tightened around her, and one leg rose to entrap hers. "That's completely not fair, you know. Teasing with no intent to follow through."

"Why am I not intending to follow through?" she asked, wiggling even more.

He sputtered. "You're pregnant!"

Darcy laughed. "Yep. Which is kinda a relief, since it means there's no possibility that you can get me more pregnant. No condoms necessary."

"But…but…can you have sex when you're that pregnant?" He sounded a little worried.

"Of course you can. If you can physically manage it, sex is okay up until the birth."

"Really?" His hands, resting on the belly, started sliding upward, pulling her nightshirt with them.

"Yep," she said again. "You just have to be creative with positioning."

His chuckle, low and teasing, sent goosebumps racing over her body. "I can do that."

As he proved that he could do just that, Darcy felt nothing but relief that her physical reactions were completely normal, and didn't seem to be impaired in any way. That had been a concern after having been with Loki. But where that had been all angst, impossible-to-process pleasure and literally unreal sex, this was solid, reassuring, and damn fun. That's how sex should be. Intense? Hell yes. But also full of unfettered enjoyment.

They'd probably make tons of mistakes being parents, and they would probably fight about a lot of things, and there would be worry whenever Clint was in battle, but Darcy felt confident that it could work out.

* * *

><p>Whew! That went a little longer than I planned. There will be a short epilogue to follow. If there are any burning questions you want answered, post them in your reviews. I'll try to wrap up what I can in the epilogue.<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

This is it. But hold on to your socks.

* * *

><p>Darcy didn't go back to work at Avengers Headquarters. Despite a truce with Stark, very hesitant overtures from Natasha, Thor's continued groveling, and Steve and Bruce's genuine pleasure at her return, it felt like she'd gone too far to the dark side to work that closely with the S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Plenty of them had heard the exchange between herself and Loki, and that had only heightened the badcrude things they had to say about her. After the first brawl that resulted in a week long suspension for Clint, she decided it wasn't worth it, and found employment elsewhere.

She didn't much like being famous, but after the initial insanity died down, she wasn't bothered too much. There were interviews, and some creepy people who stalked her in a sideways attempt to get in with Clint, but Darcy had a taser and knew how to use it.

Her scars, such an issue to her initially, did not seem very important to the rest of the world. The outpouring of love from the fans when they heard her interview about how she'd almost been killed in Loki's attack on the building was stunning. The fans quickly fell in love with the idea of Hawkeye falling in love with her while he helped nurse her back to health. That wasn't how it had happened, of course, but the fans loved the idea and ran with it. There had even been a TV movie made about it.

Clint asked her if she wanted to be married, but it didn't really matter to Darcy. They were together, and she didn't need a fancy ceremony to make it real for her.

Samuel Jordan Barton came into the world easily, to the relief of his nervous parents. He spent the early formative years of his life surrounded by larger-than-life heroes (which his mother obsessively worried about sometimes), and his many 'uncles' were happy to spoil him. Though vastly outnumbered, Aunt Jane spoiled him even more.

Darcy was proud that they didn't make too many mistakes during the early years.

Little Sam never doubted that he was loved, something his daddy was very insistent about. Clint didn't talk about his early years much, but they hadn't been happy ones, and he would not let his son grow up without that knowledge of unconditional love.

Still, Darcy worried about her son's chances of having a normal kind of life. A kid who got regular piggy back rides from the Hulk, Captain America, Iron Man, and the God of Thunder might have trouble fitting in to normal society. He might never have to, since Clint had already started teaching him to shoot, but if he did, she didn't want it to be totally impossible for him.

Sam seemed to take it all in stride, though sometimes he seemed like two different little boys in one body. He had moments of being a typical little boy, laughing and playing and learning. Other times he seemed brooding and old beyond his years as he studied the people around him.

It was Natasha, who still had a very strained relationship with Darcy and mostly remained distant and aloof, who had the balls to say something one day, after dropping Clint off when they'd finished a mission.

She watched as Sam planned out a trick to play on his daddy and went running off on stubby little legs to put it into play. Then she turned to Darcy with a grave expression.

"Sometimes, your son is far older and far more clever than his years."

That was all she said before taking her leave, but it had Darcy thinking. She spent a lot of time after that, watching Sam, and noticing things. During his normal little boy times, he had the open expression of a child and steel blue eyes. At those other times, he wore a cunning expression completely out of place on a child, and his eyes seemed more green than blue. The color change didn't freak her out too much, because Clint's eye color varied quite a bit based on his moods.

It wasn't until the day that she was watching her son plan out a devious little trick for Uncle Thor that was so far beyond his years it was impossible that Darcy had a crazy idea.

"Loki?" she asked softly.

Her son turned, sandy hair flopping over his emerald green eyes, and looked up at her. "Yes Darcy?"

She went a little crazy then, yelling and screaming, demanding to know what he'd done to her son. It was probably a good thing that the Avengers were on a mission in another state currently, because things might have gotten ugly.

When her hysterics had run their course, and Darcy was too exhausted to scream or cry anymore, Loki/Sam approached with a bottle of water and a box of tissues. She was too numb to fight it, and blew her nose and drank some water, watching the little boy/god suspiciously.

"Are you ready to listen?" he asked calmly. It was eerie as hell listening to that calm voice coming from such a young body.

"Do I have a choice?" Darcy asked bitterly.

"There is always choice, Darcy." He looked down at the floor, and then back up at her. "I was broken, insane. You know that. You have talked about it many times with Jane and Thor."

"How do you know that?" she asked shakily.

His serene smile was eerily all Loki, and it looked completely out of place on her son's face. "I have been with you since I healed you. What…what happened to you was enough of a shock to stop the spinning inside of me. I found the balance that I had once had before. I could see where the breaking and fracturing of my very soul had splintered into madness and rage. It is not an easy thing to see into yourself like that. Thor was right about you. You had no quarrel with me and you brought what little peace to me that I could accept, yet my madness and rage had destroyed you. I thought I might be able to save you, but it would require everything I had. I had to try though, in an attempt to make some sort of atonement for my atrocities."

The little boy/god paced, head bowed, eyes staring down at the floor once more. "I will admit to a bit of cowardice and selfishness at this point. I had no desire to return to Asgard and face the disappointment of my father, or the punishment that I deserved. My soul was newly recovered, and I wanted to enjoy that. So as I healed you, and sensed the life that had just begun to grow inside of you but had already been snuffed out, I knew that I could perhaps do yet another thing to atone. And to avoid return to Asgard. I cast free of my body and entered and healed the speck of a child that was just starting to grow. Your womb was a safe haven for me as I had to face all the atrocities I had committed while insane."

Darcy wanted to puke. "You bastard!" she snarled. "I want my son back. What am I supposed to tell Clint?" Her voice was raw pain, and she didn't know if she'd ever felt such razor sharp emotional agony before.

He looked puzzled. "You son is right here, Darcy. He is sleeping right now, which is typically when I become active. I have not supplanted him. I would never do such a thing."

Hope was both a good and bad thing. "But…but you…he was dead?"

"He had not even come into being yet, Darcy. There was only a little speck of life that had been extinguished by the terrible trauma you suffered. I brought that speck back to life, and hid there while the soul that would become your son slowly developed." His smile lacked humor. "If you wish, you may tell the world that life and _a_ _life_, a soul, are different things. Life begins immediately upon conception, but self awareness does not begin until some time later. I did not interfere with that process. I just needed a place to hide for awhile. Becoming whole of heart again, only to realize what awful things I had done while broken, was almost enough to break me again. I did not wish to go on living for quite some time. The love that I felt from you and Clint, even though not truly directed at me, helped me to recover."

Darcy frowned. "Do you plan to stay inside of Sam forever?"

The cough and uncomfortable look on her son's face was pure Loki, and Darcy experienced a very strange sense of melding as she looked at him. She could see Loki's face in her son's right now. How had she missed it before?

"I was going to stay as long as I could, but since you have figured out who I am in my 'moments,' as you call them, I will depart." He said it in a small voice. "It has been a novel experience for me to go through childhood being the sole center of attention of so many people that love me. Even though it is not really me who is loved, it has eased the pain of my own childhood. I rather selfishly wanted to stay as long as I could, but that is not fair to you and Clint."

"No," Darcy agreed, "Clint would not take this very well, and I can't hide this from him."

"You cannot," the boy/god agreed. The pained expression on his face was also pure Loki. "I am happy for you that you have found such happiness with Clint. He is a good man. I…I am sorry for the way I consumed you while we were together. Your attention, your devotion, was a salve for my fractured psyche. It held my more homicidal tendencies at bay."

Darcy held up a hand. "Stop. You're in my son's body right now, and that's too much of a mind fuck for me to handle."

He ducked his head. "You are right, of course. Again, I am sorry."

She waved her hands around. "How does this work? Do you just float off or what?"

His sigh was heartfelt. "I must be reunited with my body."

Darcy blinked. "Your body is in Asgard, Loki."

"Yes, I am aware of that. It either requires a journey to Asgard, or that my body be brought here. I suggest the latter, since I do not wish to further disrupt young Samuel's life. Waking in Asgard could be very traumatic for him."

"I'll speak to Thor when they get back from their mission."

"That will not be necessary. He is almost here now."

"What?" Darcy cried. But she could see the sky darkening outside, and seconds later, Thor was dropping to the terrace with Clint piggy backing him. Right behind them was Tony, and Hulk crashed down only seconds behind Tony, with Steve piggy backing him.

"Oh shit," Darcy muttered. "Jarvis."

For everyone's protection, Tony had networked all of their personal dwellings into Jarvis's network. The AI was mostly dormant, but certain things could activate him.

"Indeed Ms. Lewis. As soon as you began speaking to Loki, my system activated. I summoned the Avengers."

Clint looked crazy insane as he jumped from Thor's back and came racing into the apartment, arrow knocked and ready to fly.

"Where is he?" he cried, looking around frantically. "Sam – go to Uncle Steve _right now_. Darce – where is he?"

Darcy frowned. "Couldn't you have sent a follow up message or something, Jarvis?"

Thor, Mjolnir held in a white knuckled fist, stomped inside, head turning from side to side as he scanned the apartment. Steve and Tony were right behind him, and Darcy had enough when she saw Hulk approaching. She jumped to her feet.

"No! Absolutely not! No Hulk in our home! Just stop, all of you. Power down, chill out, there's nothing to be fighting here."

Hulk looked vaguely offended, but stayed where he was.

Clint was still almost out of his mind. "Samuel Jordan! Go with Uncle Steve right now!"

The boy/god folded his arms across his chest and stared calmly up at the frantic heroes. "Samuel is currently asleep, and taking myself out of the apartment would not be wise at this time."

The thunk of Mjolnir hitting the floor (and cracking it, dammit!) was very loud in Darcy's ears. Thor's eyes were impossibly wide and looked like all of hell had broken loose. "Loki," he said flatly. "Oh brother, what have you done?"

Clint's anguished cry almost broke Darcy's heart. She ran to him and reached out to cup his face. "Look at me, Clint. Look at me. It's okay."

He was starting to sink to the floor, staring at their son in horror. His eyes finally met hers, and her calm gave him enough strength to stay upright. The bow lowered and then dropped to the floor with a clatter.

Stark's faceplate flipped up. Tony looked wary. "Darcy? What the hell is going on here?"

Steve knelt by Sam, peering into his eyes. "Shit. They're green They _are_ Loki's eyes." He seemed shaken and stood quickly, moving a few steps back.

Clint was holding Darcy's arms so tightly she would probably bruise, alternating looks between her and their son. He was shaking. "You need to explain this quickly so I don't lose it," he warned in a choked voice. "Because as it stands, I'm about to go apeshit."

She summed it up as best and as quickly as she could. By the end, they had relaxed somewhat, and Hulk had even powered down to Banner. Clint was still very not happy.

"How do we know this isn't some sort of story he's concocted?" he asked pointedly, glaring at the boy/god and then looking guilty about it.

Thankfully, Thor was able to set their minds at ease. "He has done something like this before. Shared space with another's soul. There are no lasting effects after separation has occurred." He squared his shoulders. "I will go, tonight, to Asgard, so that I may bring Loki's body back here."

Clint was still very leery and did not trust the boy/god, despite Darcy's assurances. But when Loki calmly informed them that Sam was waking up, and quite suddenly they were staring at their confused little boy, and not the God of Mischief, he had a quiet change of heart. The change was clear.

Darcy just wanted to wrap it all up. It seemed like the last final thing that had been hanging over their heads – Loki's self sacrifice. This would bring all that to a close, finally. She was happy that he had gotten to experience a different childhood, and that he was no longer the mad insane god, but she wanted to move past it.

Odin's arrival with Thor was unexpected, but the All-Father had been deeply wounded by Loki's actions. First his attempt at suicide, and then everything that had transpired during his time on Earth, followed by a second suicide, or so it had seemed. To learn that he was alive…

Coaxing Sam to sleep when there were such interesting visitors was difficult. Surprisingly, it was Odin himself who was able to do so. The All-Father went down on one knee before Darcy and Clint's son.

"It is very exciting, these strange new people here, yes?" Odin nodded down at Sam. "But if you do not have your sleep, you will become cranky and unhappy."

Same stared up at him with rapt fascination. "Are you related to Pappy Fury?"

Odin blinked, and looked over at Nick Fury. "Why would you think we are related?"

Sam tapped his eye. "You match."

Thor's laughter was amazingly loud inside the building. But finally, Sam was convinced to lie down in a quiet room, and soon drifted off. Odin stared in shock as the little boy/god came strolling back out to them. He even moved like Loki, and the All-Father could see it.

The reunion looked emotionally painful for both Loki and Odin. Darcy kept her distance. She just wanted Loki out of her son's body, so that she could finally put that time of her life to rest, and she could continue with her current life, which was fantastic.

Clint came to her side, edgy and impatient. He slid an arm around her waist, watching with his hawk eyes as the All-Father conversed with their son. Loki was not entirely happy with what was being said, that was clear, but nodded in agreement, and moved to his body.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, but the end was rather anticlimactic. The boy/god reached up to place a hand over his body's heart, and the body jumped, sitting up, eyes snapping open. Sam wilted immediately, and sat down hard on the floor. He rubbed his eyes, and stared in confusion. Darcy and Clint stepped forward as a unit, and scooped him off the floor. With a look at Clint, Darcy passed Sam into his arms, and stepped up to gurney Loki's body rested on.

He was coughing lightly, shaking his head and blinking his eyes, trying to acclimate himself to his new/old body. But he looked up at Darcy's approach and smiled. He reached out a little unsteadily, and took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"Thank you, Darcy."

Darcy pressed her hand very briefly to his cheek, nodded, and then turned away, back toward her family. Behind her she could hear the exuberance of Thor's reunion with his brother, but for her it was over. She slid her arms around Clint and Sam and squeezed them tight, garnering a sleepy protest from their son, who was clinging to Clint's shoulders.

"Let's go home," she whispered.

* * *

><p>Wow. I hope you don't hate the ending. This story's Loki would not have flipped so easily to noble self sacrifice, so that's why this ending took place. I know some of you probably won't like it, but it made sense to me.<p>

I tied up as neatly as I could. I know some of you will be wondering what happens with Loki now, but that's not part of this story. This was a great way to get out some of my angst, and the journey was enlightening for me. Please review, and thank you again for all the support. I hope you enjoyed.


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